


Crowded Caverns & Old Lovers

by shadowsinger001



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Hybern (ACoTaR), Mates, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Slow Burn, The Court of Dreams (ACoTaR), The Summer Court (ACoTaR)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28560159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsinger001/pseuds/shadowsinger001
Summary: Set after the events of ACOFAS, displeased Illyrian clans kidnap Feyre to garner favor with the remaining Hybern forces that operate underground. After Feyre is taken, Rhys enlists the help of Kieryn, a former wartime lover with a shady past. Azriel soon realizes Kieryn is much more than he bargained for when he finds himself pulled into a dark cavernous world with a woman who wears many faces.This story follows Kieryn, my OC, and Azriel from the ACOTAR series (Azriel/OC).
Relationships: Azriel & Cassian & Rhysand (ACoTaR), Azriel & Cassian (ACoTaR), Azriel & Rhysand (ACoTaR), Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Character(s), Azriel/Morrigan (ACoTaR), Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Rhysand (ACoTaR) & Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago, and haven't done too much editing. I have a couple more of these stored if you guys want me to post those, but not all of them are complete (about 50 pages on the incompletes). The last chapter is explicit, but there are some mature/mildly explicit scenes throughout. It's certainly not my favorite work and I secretly ship Azriel and Emerie (hopefully we get some more of her--I feel like SJM is setting her up for Az, especially since she's hinting pretty hard that the book after ACOSF is his... we'll see come Feb 2021).
> 
> I'm also planning to post a few chapters of an original novel I finished over a decade ago--it's high fantasy, so please check it out, and if people like it, I'll post all 550 or so pages! :)

**Prologue (** **Kieryn)**

_Four-hundred and Eighty-Six Years Ago_

Screams sang out through the air, floating along on a vulgar breeze.

It was winter and the war still raged on, the cries and moans of Illyrian soldiers becoming a melody to lull me to sleep.

I shivered and flipped over, brushing against the Illyrian female by my side. She awoke suddenly, cursing filthy words at me, her sour stench seeping into my blood and bones.

I didn’t care to apologize. 

She’d gotten far more sleep than me. 

The dozing, winged female still smelled of those victims from the medical tents who had scrapes and burns and injuries beyond explanation--bones splitting open skin and protruding out, eyes half-melted in their sockets, mouths bubbling with blood, gaping wounds filled with maggots.

War… _War_.

The stupid war had been going on for far too long and the Illyrians had been on the brink of rebellion against their stupid, useless High Lord. He was a High Fae bastard. He didn’t understand our culture. He’d merely whisked away one of our own, mated her, and dumped her son into our ranks.

Rhysand. At least he was one of ours. Even if he was bastard-born, the next High Lord of the Night Court could not escape his mother’s blood kin. He was one of _ours_. 

At least I felt so.

I’d seen him sulking around our war camp several times, the handsome bastard’s smirking glance somewhat muddled after weeks of bloodshed. He had died with us all on the battlefield--at least with the Illyrian _men_.

I’d been shoved into the medical tents to tend to wounds but I hated it--not because it was the women’s job. Some of the women actually enjoyed it and I respected their choice, but _I_ wanted to fight. Always had. And the magic roaring through my veins… 

Rhysand had felt it when we’d crossed paths a week ago. He’d looked into my eyes, his purple irises sparking with starlight as they felt what laid in my bones.

Only he had been able to detect it.

I’d slipped into the throng of battle-worn Illyrians before he had been able to approach me and say anything further.

No one had seemed to notice when I excused myself from the medical tents later that day, claiming to need fresh air. They hardly felt anything amiss as I donned my armor hidden in the nearby woods and winnowed into the fray of battle. 

Battle calmed me. It always did. Not this stupid, cramped tent where I could do nothing but listen as Illyrian after Illyrian was shot down and hacked to pieces in the distance.

I wondered what would have happened if Rhysand had been shot down and skinned during the war. I wondered what his father would have made of it all. 

News had arrived only three weeks ago of the High Lord’s loss. His wife and daughter, slaughtered, their heads shipped to this very camp in neatly-packed boxes.

I had been on the outskirts of the crowd when the boxes had arrived, tainted pink at the undersides. The stench of blood we would soon uncover was impossible to detect in the fray of battle. The whole air was filled with the metallic tang from decaying bodies of the war, and so there was no suggestion as to what had been in the paper-filled boxes. I remembered the face that the warlord had made when he’d peeled away the layers of paper: cold and uncaring. 

I’d only had a glimpse of the Lady’s face before I’d recognized her cheekbones and mouth. I’d met her months before in Devlon’s camp, and she had been _kind_ . And the younger female… I’d known her eyes, though I’d never met _her_ before. Her eyes were purple, unimaginably so… like Rhysand’s. 

I’d walked away as Rhysand was summoned and I didn’t turn back as his cries of rage splintered the forests into ash.

He had come back to the camp the next day dripping in blood, his teeth sharp with a permanent snarl that threatened all.

And he was different, too.

It was then that I realized who he was--we all had. And we’d bowed, deeply inclining our heads to the new High Lord.

I had a feeling the war was ending.

The bitch--Amarantha--was still running around. It was common knowledge that Rhysand had been captured earlier in the war, nearly a decade ago, by her. He’d escaped--barely--and was sent away from the war. Though the war was officially over, skirmishes like this continued, but with the magical beings on each side easily cutting through one another, it would be seen as a massacre more than a skirmish in any mortal eyes. 

Rhysand had returned from his mourning to the camps to heighten morale years later.

A thundering snore roused me from my thoughts of the strange, new High Lord. 

I cursed under by breath, half-shoving the Illyrian female from my side, sending her wings splaying.

I heard her bark a curse back at me as I strode out of the tiny canvas tent before she could confront me, devouring the starlight in the night sky.

Magic blasted in the distance--red and green and blue Siphons sent colors rippling through the air. It was pretty--almost. I half-wondered what it might be like if the Illyrians displayed their power peacefully, using the lights from their Siphons not in battle, but in celebrations to light up their camps.

I flinched as an Illyrian plummeted in the distance. Even from a mile away, I could hear his body hit the ground and splinter in an explosion of guts and shattered bone fragments.

“Horrid, isn’t it?”

I blinked, unfazed, as a presence loomed to my left flank. 

I didn’t need to look to know who it was. His voice was commanding enough that I tipped my head, still looking out into the distance. “High Lord.”

I tried to deny the heat rippling off of him and eventually gave in to his searing presence, turning to meet his eyes.

He was handsome--far more so up close, without his layers of armor, grime, and blood. He was awfully young too, perhaps my age. For an immortal Fae he was young, perhaps eighteen or nineteen where a human would be concerned in appearance. And his eyes, they were stunning… but they had been dulled by battle and by the loss of his entire family.

“Rhys,” he said and I blinked back blankly. He laughed softly, turning to gaze at the moonlit battlefield. “Please. Just call me Rhys.”

I coughed and nodded. “Kieryn. Just Ryn is fine.”

I heard him shift beside me. His voice was hollow and cold and weary all at once. “I want this to end. All of it.”

I nodded, even as he continued, his voice gaining some spark of passion. “The war. The segregation. The imposement on women, on bastard-borns.”

I lifted my brows in true surprise, turning to take in his midnight-blue hair and full--but tightly-drawn--lips. 

“You want that? For the Night Court?” I asked with genuine surprise.

He smiled softly, the wind rustling his hair as a scream rose up in the distance. His grin faltered, but his passion remained. “No. For all of Prythian.”

I let out a long breath. The High Lord of the Night Court was supposed to be cruel, not kind. Not a… dreamer. Not like I was.

“And what would be the sacrifice of gaining that equality, Rhys?”

I needed to know if he truly meant it… if there were any strings attached to his little dreams.

“The asses of anyone who chooses to continue those horrid traditions.”

I snorted, smiling a little for once in many days.

He was kind.

Illyrian males had beaten me down my entire life, thrown me into the dumps, tried to take me against my will and yet… this man was kind. He was Illyrian _and_ High Fae _and_ a High Lord and yet… he cared. He really did.

“It’s hard isn’t it? Not being one of them,” he murmured, looking at me.

I tipped my head, unsure of what-

“Oh.” I hastily pushed back the strand of hair covering my ears--rounded, full-blooded Illyrian save for a useless drop of shadow wraith.

His mouth opened a little as he noted the lack of wings at my back.

I shrugged. “They clipped my wings five times and each time I found some new way to fly.” He watched me intently, his eyes sad as if he had already predicted the end. “Eventually, they grew tired of me and ripped the wings from my back. They burned them in front of me so I could never use them again.”

A long silence passed and when I managed to look at him, he was watching the horizon sadly, something… _silver_ lining his eyes.

Tears.

I looked down, shifting the gravel underfoot as I murmured gently, “I’m sorry about your family, Rhysand. Your mother was kind.”

His head whipped to mine. “You knew her?”

I smiled faintly. “I did. And she was kind beyond measure. She fed me when I was lost in a blizzard in Devlon’s camp.”

He was silent, but his eyes were bright, proud. 

“Thank you,” he said roughly. 

I hadn’t the faintest idea why he was thanking me, but I smiled with a curt nod of my head. I suppose he’d been grasping to find memories of her, as I would if I had loved my parents.

But I ran away from my parents. So it didn’t matter. I left willingly to avoid what they had sold me to and was captured soon after. I was sent to that damned facility in Hybern and it was from there that I had run away when they had carved my body open and… 

I felt the shadows ripple along my skin, the only marks of my shadow wraith blood.

Rhysand’s lip tipped up, curling into a sensuous smile. “Full-blooded Illyrian?”

I gave him a sheepish grin. “There’s a drop of shadow wraith tainting it. It does nothing for me except surface when I’m thinking about certain things that… _disturb_ me.”

He watched me, eyes silently slipping over the grey, near-translucent whorls of shadow that gobbled up all light and reality, rendering parts of my body invisible.

I sighed loudly and they skittered away, leaving my body as it was--olive-skinned and well-muscled, with dark, wavy hair that brushed my collarbone and the faintest grey eyes--another gift from the wraiths.

His eyes flared slightly as they traced the Illyrian tattoos over my chest that plunged into my shirt and over parts of my shoulders, and down my spine. Brands, really.

“You’re married.” He said the words flatly, as if they were made of ash.

I lifted a finger and brushed my collarbone. “No… I’m not.”

“But those marks-”

“I was sold,” I said suddenly, looking into his deepening eyes. “I heard the male beat his previous wives after hammering them for heirs. I killed the male before he could pronounce me his wife or bed me.”

His eyes were dark now, swirling with… guilt. He felt responsible for what had happened in his court, _wanted_ to change it.

But when his eyes met mine, while I ached to reach out and grasp his hand, to tell him he had not done this to me, there was something new in his gaze. 

It seared into my soul.

No male had ever looked at me like that.

With… sorrow and longing and guilt and hope all at once.

I sucked on a tooth and turned to look at the battlefield as a plume of ash from a fire plunged upward. The cries--they were horrid and cruel and destroying any shred of sanity I had.

“I need a distraction,” I said roughly, longing to go out onto the battlefield. But I didn’t mean my desire to fight. I meant something else… I’d never-

“I’ve never been with a female before, surprisingly,” he said suddenly, and I quickly wondered if the offer had been stupid. He’d likely been offered bodies by all sorts of females. But he hadn’t chosen them. Perhaps he liked men. They’d all heard of his two Illyrian companions, of- “ _But_ ,” he said softly, his voice splitting my soul, “I’ve never met another female who has dreamed. Not like me.”

His face was somewhat hopeful, even though it was dulled by pain. So much of it. 

That, at least, I could understand. Pain. Sacrifice.

“I-” I began, unsure how to say yes. I wanted to, but I didn’t know _how_ to tell him. 

My lips were paralyzed.

He grabbed my wrist gently and led me into his tent--winnowing was far more suspicious than walking. I followed him silently, allowing him to lead me.

And when he closed the tent flaps behind me, he faltered, running a hand through his hair, his eyes wide and nervous. “Ryn, if you don’t want me, then-”

I shut him up with a searing kiss.

I’d never kissed anyone like that before, and I had the feeling that neither had he.

His wings flared slightly as he wavered, catching me and wrapping his arm around my waist and filling my hair with another.

I had a feeling that I was doing something I wouldn’t regret, something that mattered.

The post-war skirmishes would last for many years more, I just had no estimate how long _this_ would last. A night? A week? A month? A year? More?

All I was certain of was that I wanted him, that I wanted to share my body with his and learn all about him. I wanted to tell him about me, about the power they had forced into my body. But I knew that once this war was over, I’d have to leave. Go into hiding from _them_. Maybe loose Rhys. But now was not the time to be thinking such things, to be thinking of the people who were hunting for me.

An hour later I was panting, lying against his side as I ran a finger down the curve of his warm wing. I’d let him take me completely, amongst the cries of battle with his wings flared above me, below me, behind me.

“Don’t show anyone else your wings in bed,” I chuckled, brushing the smooth membrane. A soft noise rumbled from his chest at the contact, but he managed to smile and kiss my nose.

“Why?”

“Because they’re so pretty and they’re mine,” I murmured, laughing against his tan skin.

He pulled me closer, kissing my hair. “I promise.”

“Unless it's your mate of course,” I said with a wicked grin and he snorted, tightening his arms around me.

He surely had a mate, didn’t he? 

It couldn’t… be _me_.

Perhaps it was, and we hadn’t found out just yet. But why would it be me? Surely he deserved better.

Thirty-eight years later on a cold winter night, the war ceased completely. I kissed my best friend and lover for the last time and left, leaving nothing behind but a note.

He’d forgive me one day perhaps and grant me the gift I’d asked--recluse from the world that threatened me more and more everyday.

He had promised to protect me against all the threats and people I had told him of, and I’d believed him until dreams bit at me so realistic they had to be none but a prophecy.

I left him in a puddle of silken sheets, his wings draping over the imprint of me in his bed and talons glinting sadly from the moonlight filtering in from the open window.

I silently slipped out of his bedroom in Velaris.

The dream I’d had of the paint-covered girl with brown hair and blue eyes haunted me to the ends of the land.

Mate.

_His_ mate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Azriel**

“ _ Like I said _ ,” Cassian drawled from beside me, “that isn’t going to work.”

I sighed and propped my feet up on the table, watching as Rhys drowned another glass of wine. We were all awfully still, even as we itched to move.

His brows were furrowed as he traced a finger over the map and looked up at me. “Anything, Az?”

I ignored the sharp and cold anger that tore through me. “Nothing. All my spies were killed or turned.” Again, a cold wave traveled down my spine.

Bastards. All of them. Even my shadows hadn’t detected it.

Cassian’s eyes were cold, his voice even more so. “I heard that the little Andrak camp lord built himself a palace on top of the mountain. Built himself a throne too with the promise of freedom from the Night Court and great, sprawling cities. Illyrians are still flocking to him.” 

“When they get there they’ll realize that it's deserted. Building their own court from the rubble isn’t very easy,” I murmured, letting out a slow breath. 

Rhysand turned towards me, his black hair as ruffled as his wings. He straightened them both. “And the ones who are loyal?”

I stood up swiftly, crossing over to the window. “They demand entrance into Velaris.” I heard Cassian suck in his breath behind me as I watched the summer sunlight glimmer in Elain’s gardens. “They don’t want to go to Andrak’s  _ glorious _ court, and they no longer have a home in the camps--most of them were deserted.”

“You can trust your spies on that?” Rhys asked carefully.

Still, guilt and rage sparked through me. “I checked myself.”

He crossed his arms over his black jacket, his jaw twitching in thought.

I leaned against the windowsill, frowning as a shadow curled around my ear.  _ New reports. And something amiss. Wards tampered _ .

The shadow slipped away, its laughing voice fading into nothingness.

“Something is wrong,” I said suddenly, my body stiffening. “The wards were tampered with; something is off.”

Rhys stiffened at that. “How so?”

I sent out a wave of shadows to investigate and crossed across the room. “I’m not sure, something is just… wrong. Check the wards, and I’ll do a run of the city. Cass, make sure our patrols are ready to go through the city.” They both jumped to their feet and Rhys frowned as Cassian and I tapped our Siphons and armor began rolling over our body.

A shadow returned to me, whispering in my ear. 

_ Feyre _ , it purred.

The door slammed open before I could say anything.

Mor was at the threshold, panting, her dress torn and her feet bare.

“Feyre,” we whispered in union.

I pushed for more answers as she struggled to regain her breath. I felt Rhysand’s power rumble through the room. “Where is she?”

Mor’s chocolate eyes were wide as she looked at me, unable to see her cousin. “Illyrians,” she coughed out. “We were on the outskirts of the city and they had a shield of some kind that I couldn’t break. Some kind of Hybern magic.” She sucked in another breath. “I-I tried to stop them but they got her in shackles, nullified her magic, and winnowed her away before I could so much as blink.”

Rhys’s temper made the heat in the room unbearable. He was shaking, visibly so. I could tell from the way his eyes were glazed that he was trying to contact her and… couldn’t. 

The shackles had stifled their bond.

“What uniform did they wear?” I asked calmly, trying to assess the information.

Mor looked at Rhysand and he said a second later, after slipping into his cousin’s head, “Hybern.” 

It was Cassian’s turn to rage now. His wings flared and he bared his teeth. “Bastards. Now they’re siding with Hybern?”

I slowly realized what was happening. “Hybern has no allies after the war, and no people to occupy excess land,” I whispered. “If they could win an army of Illyrians over at the promise of cutting a piece of their land for them, then…”

Cassian growled. “What the hell do they want from us and from Feyre?”

I handed Mor a glass of water and rubbed my temples. “They want their own court and they want our heads, but with Feyre-”

“I know what they want with her,” Rhys growled, his eyes sharpening with anger, and fear.

“I can contact my spies in Hybern-”

“No need,” he said roughly. “There’s no use. No one can infiltrate that pisspoor place they’re taking her to.”

I stood my ground. “ _ I can _ -”

“Az,” he said, his voice quieting slightly. I tried not to glare at him. She was my High Lady as well. I had a duty to protect her as much as he did. “Az, I know the place they are taking her to.”

I rubbed my eyes, my worry rippling through my body. I shoved it down and tried to listen to him.

“There is a place in Hybern that has existed for many years,” he began roughly, as if reciting someone else’s words. “They can take a Fae and open them up, carve out their power. With that power they can bolster their immortality, lengthen their lifespans, and strengthen either themselves or their entire species. They can do the opposite too, take a horrid power and put it into a Fae.”

“Are you saying,” Cassian hissed, “that the Illyrian’s price for allying with Hybern was Feyre. So they could take her power and strengthen their species?”

I noted suddenly how my brother had referred to the Illyrians as  _ their species _ , not  _ our species. _

I could feel the cold lancing through us all.

Feyre had the power of all seven High Lords. If she were that powerful… The amount of strength they would obtain by removing her power… 

“I’ll kill them,” Mor whispered. “Every single damned one of them that touches her.”

“Can they survive?” I asked coolly, trying to understand what was happening. “If you remove their power, can a Fae survive?”

Rhys’s eyes were distant. “Yes. It is possible. But I know of only one out of the thousands they’ve experimented on that has survived.”

I raised my brow. “Removed power, or…  _ infused _ it?”

His eyes were grim, distant, and haunted. “Infused,” he said carefully. “And we’re going to give her a little visit.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Kieryn**

Warm sunlight filtered into my house, shaken only by the occasional shadows of clouds crossing the sun’s path.

I sighed softly as a breeze ruffled my dark blue gossamer curtains that guarded the entrance to the backyard. In the distance, dark flowers were contrasted by the bright blue and green of the ocean, and the pinks and purples of the coral reef below. Immediately outside the curtain was a patio made of dark stones with a little seating area, a firepit, and an infinity pool. Dark steps descended to the private beach below, where more fire pits and chairs sat.

There were still wine bottles outside from the last party, shining faintly from the strings of lights over the patio.

My head ached from last night, but the pain was more of an incessant tapping that drove me crazy.

I continued to stare blankly from the kitchen, my eyes roving over the interior ivory sofa and fireplace by the garden’s entrance door, the dining table in front of me, and the hallway beyond leading to several rooms. The door to my left--the entrance--opened to a long, winding cobblestone road lined with blue and pink and red and white and green houses that all spiraled down into the heart of Adriata.

I smiled faintly as a boat slipped passed my beach, little children in it half-overboard, trying to catch fish with their hands.

In the distant streets, music played from a fiddle.

For Adriata’s standards, it was terribly quiet. Too serene, much like Velaris’s streets in the day. But much like the fading City of Starlight, Adriata came alive in the night.

On certain nights, parties and festivals swelled in the streets. Music from all kinds of instruments would fill the golden city, and revelers would dance in the warm air, hiking up their already-thin dresses and shirt sleeves. Vendors would line either side of the streets, calling out wares for their pastries and seafood. Fireworks would burst through the air and children would scramble for the highest point to watched them from. When the children were tucked in for sleep, the alcohol would start flowing and the skinny dipping into the warm ocean would begin.

Sometimes, people would rent private boats. The boats, with brightly colored gossamer curtains forming a vacant cube within, would have colorful chaises and pillows, along with sparkling gold alcohol, and a chef cooking in the center of the boat. 

Merriment filled the streets at night, constantly driving the screams of war and torture from my mind.

This was my city.

I hummed to myself as pink clouds floated in my vision, and began cutting the fresh bread from the bakery. I stirred the lavender-laced soup, preparing for the party tonight.

Usually, the party was centered around my house once a month--a sort of agreement I’d come to with my neighbors. But Tarquin--damn him--insisted that it be at my place for the second night in a row.

The High Lord was kind and I often helped train his soldiers. 

But I tried to stay away from the High Lord, from  _ High Lords _ in general. It never seemed to work, and the white-hair male always ended up lounging around in my house.

My  _ favorite _ High Lord, however, had been long gone from my thoughts.

I rarely thought of the Night Court male. For many years while I was at his side silently, out of the eyes of the public and his friends at my request, I’d been afraid to accept his offer: a life with him. It was never fear of him--we had become close friends long before we truly committed to a relationship. More than anything, I feared joining his side only for him to find his mate. Even years after I had left, I had wondered if that “vision” was merely a dream and I had over-thought myself. I had even considered going back to him, explaining why I’d done what I’d done.

Those thoughts plagued me for centuries until I heard about  _ her _ . 

Tarquin had bound the city to my power for nearly half a century to protect the few of his people who remained in the court. I had never been Under the Mountain, but I heard the stories. 

And a part of me had settled at that.

Then they came on a visit to Adriata and I’d had a brief glimpse of her walking with Tarquin and known who she was. 

Feyre, mate of the High Lord of the Night Court.

I still hadn’t seen Rhysand in centuries. He was the first male I had truly loved and I was the first female he had truly loved. But that was in the past. I hadn’t seen him since that night in Velaris.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to. 

I sighed loudly and went about cleaning the rooms and lighting the torches in the garden.

As soon as the sun began to set and all the floating golden fae lights were lit and the food laid out, I quickly threw on a dress. 

The shimmering golden gown was one of my favorites--tight-fitting and glorious, a sleeveless contraption that exposed much of my chest and back, plunging over my curves to pool at my feet.

A little necklace with a golden sun on it hovered in the dip between my golden collarbones, glinting happily. 

I quickly threw on a pair of golden heels and painted my lips red, darkening the outline of my eyes before quickly slipping back down the stairs.

The first knock sounded a minute later.

Within fifteen minutes the entire house was filled to the brim. Minutes after that, people filled up the beach and the fire-lit pathways, drinking and eating and laughing. Musicians played the fiddle and I smiled to myself as a group of men and women began dancing by the lapping, moonlit water.

I drank deeply from my bubbly golden alcohol, savoring the burn.

This was my home. Bright and golden and sunlit and warm.

I missed the Night Court sometimes, mostly Velaris. I loved the city while I stayed discreetly in its center in a little apartment. The culture was lively in Velaris--though not nearly so much as Adriata’s--but it was always too cold, the ocean no fun for diving in.

And by the Cauldron, the drink here was unmatchable.

I laughed at something an acquaintance said and then the room hushed briefly before resuming its revelry.

“Is it satisfactory?” I asked, wheeling around to find Tarquin smiling at me. He’d tied his hair back and worn a fine outfit of deep blue and gold.

“Even more so than I imagine,” he said, kissing my cheek and wrapping me in a hug. “You never fail to impress me. You look beautiful by the way.”

I wriggled out of his arms and grinned, humming my thanks. “Next time you demand a party at my house, I expect you to haul your ass here in the morning and help me cook.”

He laughed and tapped my nose. “I can’t cook.”

“Bullshit,” I muttered, taking the fresh bouquet of flowers he handed me. “You were a sailor; you can cook your own food so why can’t you help me?”

“The difference,” he said with a smirk,” is in the quality.” He winked. “I love your homemade food too much.”

I groaned and shoved him playfully. “You won’t be getting much more of that if you keep showing up at my door begging like a poor, stranded cat.”

He shrugged. “I can’t help that your food is so delicious.” He sauntered off before I could threaten him again. Varian slipped in after him, winking at me as his cousin had. I huffed a laugh to myself as they were both immediately surrounded by females.

I’d known the two of them for many years, nearly three hundred centuries. They were like family to me.

Cresseida slipped in half a minute later, strutting around in an emerald dress.

I smirked. 

Even after all these years, the princess and I were at odds. But she always found an excuse to attend my parties--not that who attended was really  _ my _ choice.

I just kept my doors open to the whole of Adriata. My wards were constantly up, my magic always searching for any weapons or unfamiliar people.

Nothing ever went amiss in my house.

I began arranging the lilies and peonies Tarquin had given me into a vase. Laughter rang through the halls, mixed with the cracking of fires.

In the distance, fireworks began and all sound was drowned out, and in its place was a feeling of joy.

The alcohol helped too, especially as the booms of fireworks disarmed me, drawing images of blood.

I had let those Illyrians die. I hadn’t been able to fight for them as I should have. I could have insisted further, but I didn’t. I let the war rage on, only going to fight when I was out of sight from the camp lords, which I had rarely been. 

The war was over, I reminded myself over and over and over again.

_ It is over _ .

No more blood on my hands.

When I trained the children by the beach on the weekdays in Adriata, I refused to wear armor or use real blades. Their clanging… the sound had been seared into my mind and soul from the war.

I could still fight, like hell too. In fact, I had taught Rhysand how to fight dirty--he’d always been too proper about it.

Being able to fight and choosing to do so were two different things.

My days of battle were over.

I wanted peace.

Again, a tapping rang against my mind and I doubled over, panting as it traveled along the length of my mental barrier.

…Not a headache, then.

Daemati?

I hadn’t encountered one for centuries, but there was one nearby, even closer than he or she had been hours earlier. But why were they targeting my-

I groaned, clutching my head as the pressing became nearly unbearable.

_ Daemati _ . There was no doubt of it. And strong. And… familiar. 

“Ryn.” Soothing lines were being rubbed down my back. I knew he was worried. I could smell it off of him.

I turned to Tarquin, my eyes glazed with pain as I muttered, “Daemati.”

His eyes went wide and he grabbed my arm as if he could physically shield me from whatever being was trying to slip past my-

I knew who was trying to get into my head.

No. Not possible.

He hadn’t tried contacting me since-

“High Lord,” a soldier said discreetly to Tarquin, pulling me out of my thoughts. “There is someone who wishes to speak to you immediately outside.”

Tarquin raised a brow, gesturing to me.

“With all due respect sir, it is an emergency.”

Tarquin looked at me with worry and turned his head at the guard. “Who is it?”

The guard opened his mouth, but I answered for him.

“Rhysand.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Azriel**

We’d winnowed to three courts already--Day, Dawn, and Winter. My head was spinning as Rhysand landed in Adriata, his hair askew.

“She’s here,” he said to himself, his eyes glowing brightly.

He’d been trying for hours to tap into her mind, to find wherever this  _ person _ was.

She’d hidden herself well.

I walked silently behind Rhys, afraid to say anything. He was on the verge of splintering--worry burned through his eyes.

I’d made the mistake of telling him hours ago that Feyre was strong, that she would survive whatever they would try to do to her. His eyes had flared and he’d snapped at me, insisting that the person we were to meet was beyond powerful, even more so than himself, even more than  _ Amren _ .

I found the fact impossible. If such a powerful being existed, I should have been able to detect her with my shadows. But they made patrols through the city and found nothing amiss, no strange power.

Cassian was gone, battling with Keir for a Darkbringer legion, should we need one.

If whoever we were searching for was powerful enough, I didn’t see why we needed a legion. I had the feeling that Rhys dismissed Cassian so we could winnow more quickly.

“I need to speak to Tarquin,” Rhys said, managing a semblance of calm as he addressed the soldiers guarding the castle entrance. 

“The High Lord is out in the city. You may wait inside until he returns.”

I could feel Rhys’s strained growl. “It is  _ urgent _ ,” he hissed. His very voice threatened to slice into their minds should they disobey him.

Luckily, the smaller guard yielded, gesturing for us to follow.

I wasn’t sure how Rhys followed so silently and calmly. I was on the verge of begging the guard to speed up.

The city was alive--bright and loud and glorious. Nearly a rival to my own home in the northern mountains. Children stared at us as we passed, gawking and pointing at our wings.

I tucked mine in a bit self-consciously, and dug my hands further into my pockets.

It was a ten minute walk from the castle through winding streets and large crowds to where Tarquin was occupied.

He was at a _party_.  
We were on a loud golden street, where a crowd had formed outside one of the house's doors. The revelry undoubtedly continued within, and beyond, given the view of the packed bonfire-lit beach.

It was the sort of the party Cassian and Mor would drag me into, and even Rhys seemed somewhat taken aback by the similarity to the Night Court.

The guard disappeared into the throng, surfacing a minute later with the white-haired High Lord trailing behind him.

“Rhysand,” Tarquin said, his eyes dark. “To what do I owe this visit?”

I sent my shadows out, telling them to secure the perimeter and report anything amiss.

I raised my guard as the soldier from before flanked Tarquin’s side and  _ casually _ rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Rhys was all darkness, his hands clenched in his pockets as he coolly said, “I don’t mean to ruin your little party, Tarquin.” The words were harsh and spiteful. Indeed, several Fae were staring, others quickly walking away from the revelry. “Can we speak somewhere more private?”

Tarquin’s gaze was hard, but genuine curiosity lined his features. He waved his guard off, guiding us into the house, through a thick crowd, and into a vacant study.

I shut the door behind us, taking up a place by the brown wood bookshelf.

The fireplace lit on its own accord and Tarquin plopped into one of the chaises as the room came alight, hundreds of colorful books and pillows suddenly brighter. A little tide pool was in the center of the room, and in it, a golden starfish wiggled as the light warmed it.

I frowed and crossed my arms. Rhysand began pacing. 

“I’m looking for someone,” he began, reciting the same words that he had to all the other High Lords we’d visited.

Tarquin poured himself a dark amber liquid from a crystal decanter. “Go on.”

“An Illyrian woman.”

Tarquin shrugged. “If I had an Illyrian living in my city I’d know.” He swirled the liquid, frowning.

Rhysand ran a hand through his hair. “She has no wings.”

I blinked. He hadn’t mentioned that before, which likely meant that she-

“A  _ half _ -Illyrian, then?” Tarquin asked carefully.

“ _ Illyrian _ through and through. She had her wings torn off.”

I bit my lip.  _ Those bastards. _ Clipping wasn’t enough, they’d  _ ripped _ her wings off. I knew Illyrians and that they’d first die before allowing another to touch their wings, least of all  _ rip them off. _

“I know of no such person,” Tarquin said, his lip twitching ever-so-slightly.

_ Liar _ , a shadow whispered at my ear.

“He’s lying,” I said roughly, glaring as his pale blue eyes met mine.

Rhysand turned to me, his brow raised and I nodded, confirming his suspicions. She was here somewhere, and he was lying to our faces.

“Tarquin,” Rhys rumbled, “I hate to intrude on your wonderful citizen’s privacy but I need her. Point me to where she’s staying in the city.”

“You have no right to make demands in my city,” Tarquin said, his voice as calm as his movements as he stood and crossed the room to look out a window to the beach below, where people were diving into the water…  _ naked _ . I nearly shuddered at the thought of jumping into the ocean with my sensitive wings. 

“Please,” Rhys whispered, his voice nearly broken. “They took her.”

That caught Tarquin’s attention. 

His eyes went wide. 

“Who?”

“Feyre.”

“Who took her?”

“Hybern.” No point in revealing the Illyrian’s betrayal. We didn’t need to seem weak, not now. “They took her from me in the morning.”

Tarquin’s eyes were wide and he crossed his arms as he contemplated something. Then he turned towards Rhysand and me, his eyes warning. “She is a member of  _ my _ court now.”

Rhys’s wings flared. “So she  _ is _ here.” He was panting slightly with a strange look on his face, and I began to reconsider what his relationship was to her.

“ _ So _ ,” Tarquin continued, “if she refuses you or asks you to leave, you  _ will _ listen to her.”

Rhys nodded, a bit breathless. “Can I see her now?” The words were broken, restrained. “Where is she staying in the city?”

Tarquin merely shrugged as a voice sounded from behind me--husky and feminine.

“ _ This _ is my home.”

I turned at the same time Rhysand did.

She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.

**\------------**

She was…  _ stunning _ . I reined in my surprise quickly at her silent appearance, and cursed as I found my shadows had run away, avoiding the searing light she seemed to give off. Her power, though I could not detect it, burned in her eyes.

Her dress was… something. It hugged every curve in a way that would most males beg. Her golden skin and glimmering silver eyes ran over me and her silken hair shifted, brushing her collarbone as she looked past me.

I’d never seen someone so beautiful and powerful, and that damned dress… 

What in hell was I thinking?

I was snapped out of my stupid Illyrian hunger as Rhys choked--actually  _ choked  _ behind me.

“Kieryn,” he whispered hoarsely.

The name burned through me and I nearly choked on it, on the lust that was rising every second and growing more and more unbearable. That name--it seared into my mind. I’d never be able to forget it, forget such an unfairly beautiful and solemn face. Heat stirred in my core and she ran another eye over me--over my face and my body and my wings. Her eyes didn’t linger on my scarred hands, which hung limply at my sides. She was stunning. Something deep inside me stirred, focused only on her.

What. Was. Wrong. With. Me.

“Rhys,” Kieryn said to my brother, who was awestruck as he slowly walked over to her and pulled her into his arms.

She was staring blankly through me, not quite seeing the male who held her.

Rhys pulled back unnecessarily fast and gestured to me. “This is my shadowsinger, Azriel.”

I bit my lip to shove down whatever was swirling in my soul and managed an incline of my head. Her thick lashes framed pale eyes, which for the third time, took me in.

“Ryn,” she said, holding out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Azriel.” I took it hesitantly, praying she wouldn’t shy away from my stupid, ugly scars. I hated them--each burn and swirl no matter how many times my friends ignored them. I still felt them burning sometimes, and I would wake up screaming.

Her hands were cold and soothing.

Our hands let go and I rubbed the back of my head, waiting for Rhys to explain the situation to her, but instead he went on about her.

Not that I had an issue with it.

For some reason, a part of me wanted to know more about her.

“Ryn was in the same war camp as me during the first war. We became friends for many years,” he said quickly, avoiding something. 

I raised my brow and Ryn shrugged. “We were very  _ close _ during the war,” she said as if it was the least important thing. 

I stared at Rhys and then at Tarquin who clearly wasn’t previously aware of his friend’s relationship to the High Lord of Night. But he saw it now, as clearly as I did.

Tarquin said without moving his face, “You were lovers.”

Ryn yawned, moving to sit on a chaise. “For a while. Though I’m not sure why it concerns  _ this _ .” She gestured to all of us.

Rhys shrugged it off, though there was something like guilt in his face. He didn’t meet my gaze as he said into my mind:  _ She was the first woman I ever loved or took to bed. We were lovers for nearly thirty-eight years. I offered her a place at my side, but she saw Feyre’s coming and disappeared in the night without a trace. _

Ah.

Kieryn was smirking, and I wondered if the swagger was intended as a mask for whatever she felt underneath. “Knock it off, Rhys. If you want to speak in my house, you’ll do it with your mouth.”

Rhys sighed, somehow used to her tone, and pulled out a chair from the desk, sitting down on it roughly with his head in his palms. He was shaking slightly. “They took-”

“Feyre,” Ryn said, as if tasting the word on her lips. I wondered if she’d ever said it aloud before.

There was no anger or jealousy in her words, only concern as far as I could detect. She didn’t feel anything for the High Lord anymore, and I wondered why a part of me thought it was a… relief.

I crossed my arms and her eyes slid to mine lazily.

There was fire in that gaze and…  _ fear _ .

I gulped and burned in relief when Rhys said into my mind:  _ She isn’t afraid of you or me. There are certain regrets she has when it comes to the war, to saving Illyrian lives. Being faced with Illyrians awakens the fear of what she did. It’s another reason why she left Velaris. _

Velaris? I never remembered my brother having a lover then, in that city.

Kieryn was still staring at me when she said roughly, “Where did they take her?”

Rhys’s voice was drained as he said, “They took her to Hybern.”

Her eyes flickered back to Rhys and became flooded with real emotions. Raw and angry. “They want to…”

Rhys nodded.

“Shit,” she whispered.

“You can get in, can’t you? I need her back.” His voice was strong, but it broke again as he said, “She’s my mate. And I don’t think even I can save her.”

The guilt in his words made me frown. We were losing time over this, over talking.

“Rhys, I’ll give you everything you need to get in, but I can’t-”

Rhys stood. “I  _ know _ what that place means to you, but I need you to go. I can’t come out of there alive, but you know the place.”

“Rhys,” she whispered, her voice wavering slightly. 

The High Lord ignored it.

“I’ll give you anything, I’ll never disturb you again, all I ask for is that-”

“You’ve overstayed your visit, High Lord,” Tarquin murmured, his bargain returning to my mind.

Ryn ignored him and plunged on. “You don’t understand. I can get you there, but if I go in, I’ll just freeze. I’ll start shaking and screaming and all I’ll want to do is slam my head against those cursed walls.  _ I can’t _ .” Rhys opened his mouth to interrupt but she forged on. “If I could do it, I would. But battle… I’ve put war and blood behind me because I cannot  _ mentally _ face it. In the end, I won’t be able to get her. I can’t go back there, I-I… I’m sorry, Rhys.”

I understood, even if Rhysand didn’t. They had…  _ carved _ her open and put something foreign into her body. She had been violated and… locked up. Like me.

“Tell me what you can, and I’ll do it,” I said, breaking their gaze.

Kieryn turned to me, her eyes wide.

Rhys snarled. “I won’t send you back into a prison, Az. I’m not losing you.”

“It’s me or Feyre,” I said roughly. “I might as well try.”

Ryn was still staring at me, her nose flaring slightly. Something shifted in me as she took me in again, but differently this time. 

Something was wrong, horribly wrong. My shadows were missing and I couldn’t stop as the world began spinning. Her eyes widened suddenly and she turned to Rhys. “I’ll go with him.”

Rhys growled at her, baring his teeth. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

She snarled back, avoiding my eyes, “Your Shadowsinger is my mate.”

I felt it snap through me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Kieryn**

Stupid, calculating Cauldron.

My mate, an  _ Illyrian _ .

It was all a cruel joke. I could hardly stand the sight of Illyrian wings in my mind, but to have them in the flesh, on my  _ mate _ . They were reminders of my inability, my failures. I still remember picking injured bodies from the battlefield during ceasefires, unwittingly stepping on broken Illyrian wings on broken, dead Illyrian bodies.

Rhysand’s eyes were on me, waiting for me to answer his question. 

_ Why the sudden change of heart? _

Rhys had become an asshole, but I knew the rougher side of him was only surfacing because he’d lost his mate. The Rhys I had loved was still there. The Rhys who had been my best friend was there too.

The shadowsinger… he’d caught my eye from the beginning. He was silent, albeit unfairly handsome with his dark hair and gold-green, earthy eyes. He was concerning to me too. I’d heard stories of the shadowsinger, who made his enemies sing for him under his blade. 

A torturer and a sadist.

I didn’t think it was true, but the coldness still unnerved me.

I might have hated him if not for those  _ scars _ . 

He’d been hurt. Beyond hurt. In a way I could almost understand. While I’d glamored my scars, he wore them without shame, even though a part of him seemed to be wary of them. A part of me had softened at that realization and Rhysand’s light implication of him being in a prison, and then… it had snapped into place.

I didn’t need a mate, had never wanted one. Even if the male before me seemed kind enough. Even if I  _ wanted _ to know more about him. 

Lies suited me better.

So I said, without a shred of care even though my heart argued otherwise, “Your shadowsinger is my mate.”

I couldn’t even look at the handsome male. I just stared into Rhysand’s endless eyes, which were lined with surprise and… anger.

Good.

He was still angry at me after all these years.

I didn’t meet the shadowsinger’s eyes lest I get on my knees and apologize for looking at him with such… disdain.

But if I was going back to that damn place in Hybern, I couldn’t be attached to anyone.

A lone survivor.

That was what I had been, and always would be.

“We leave in half an hour,” I said, staring only at Rhysand. Not at Tarquin or the male standing at Rhys’s side, tall and dark and… 

My eyes did indeed snap to his.

There were no shadows around him as the myths spoke of. His face was cold and unmoving.

Maybe… maybe he didn’t want a mate either. He had been in love with Rhys’s cousin for nearly five hundred years--everyone had heard the story. Rhys had told me about it, about his spymaster and his third while he’d held me in Velaris. Despite years of torture and hiding my feelings, I  _ flinched _ .

The shadowsinger’s face lightened suddenly, his eyes filling with something I couldn’t place or understand. Before I could imagine anything that was swirling through his head, I stood and strode to the door.

“Do you have a plan?” Rhys asked behind me, following me. He trailed me down the hallway, the sounds of the party suddenly very, very distant. I kept walking, away from the shadowsinger who had not followed, who was left in the room with Tarquin. “ _ Kieryn _ .”

He grabbed my wrist and turned me. And for the first time in the day, he looked weary and sad. “Ryn,” he murmured, and before he could say anything else I buried my face into his chest and… cried.

“Why?” I whispered, tears sliding down my cheeks. “He hates me.”

_ Why in hell was I crying _ .

Rhys snorted and I nearly punched him. “Azriel is… complicated.”

“He’s in love with another woman,” I whispered, pulling back to look into his eyes. “ _ Your _ cousin… he’s loved her for centuries and centuries and centuries.”

“Ryn-”

“Rhys, I…” I wiped away the tears. “I’m sorry I put on the bitch facade. The guilt… it’s still there. For letting those Illyrians die and for leaving you.”

His eyes were churning as he lifted my chin. “I lost my best friend,” he murmured. “But you gave me the greatest gift. A mate. And you didn’t have to sacrifice yourself for it. You’ll always have a place in my court as my friend. Always.”

I blew out a shaky breath. I knew neither of us shared the feelings we burned with years ago. His died out with a new love, and mine… they had faded with time. He was still my friend, always had been. 

This was his peace offering.

I pushed back slightly. “This is my home, Rhys. I’ve come to love this place, even if Velaris was my home once. But now especially, I can’t go back. Not with-”

“Azriel has been through a lot,” Rhys said firmly. “I wouldn’t take his lack of reaction as disinterest.”

I sighed. I had given him the same look when I’d called him my mate, hadn’t I? I suppose I shouldn’t have expected otherwise. Gods above, I didn’t even want a mate. Why was I suddenly hurt when my mate cared for another?

Rhys’s hand rubbed my shoulder, soothing in the way friends care for one another. “So what’s the plan?”

He raised his voice and I realized the shadowsinger could now hear us. 

Of course his spymaster would want to hear the plan.

“You’re not going to like it,” I said, leaning against the wood panelling of the hallway.

“I don’t really care, as long as my mate gets back safely.”

I grinned. “There’s only one way to get in and out of that place. They have a vast underground society,  _ literally _ underground. The Fae that roam there have been there for centuries and are trusted. They do not allow anyone in. There is no way for newcomers to enter.”

“I’m assuming there’s an  _ except _ coming,” Rhys chuckled. I froze as I heard the spymaster slip into the hallway and linger to listen from a respectable distance.

“ _ Except _ ,” I said, earning a chuckle from Rhys, “there is a brothel in their little hideout. They bring in fresh Fae every few months, and if I’ve counted correctly, they should have another shift in about… an hour.”

Rhys frowned. “That explains how you could get in, but Az?”

I smiled darkly, “There are men and women of great power in their society. They don’t segregate based on gender for leaders and members, but on how sadistic the person can be. So, the brothel services both the men and women of their society.”

“Are you suggesting that Az-”

“Could get in, yes,” I said, daring a look at the spymaster, whose face was cool. He’d do whatever it took to assist his High Lady. 

Good.

“And you,” Rhys murmured, “won’t they recognize you?”

I shrugged. “I realized many years ago in their torture chambers that I would come back one day and destroy them all. I was weak then, but I planted seeds for the future.”

“How so?” Rhys asked.

I threw him a blood-red medal. “I killed all of my overseers--all the ones who could recognize me--before I slipped into the brothel. I worked there for a couple months.” Rhys flinched as he realized what I’d had to do to get out. “Once I was out, I posed as a citizen in their city and turned in real criminals with the fake identities of the Fae they asked for. They didn’t remember their whores from the brothel, so they grew to trust me, not remembering I had once been their prisoner. Eventually they gave me a ranking. Every once in a while, I pay them a visit and bring along a rapist or a murderer claiming them to be someone else, and they praise me.”

Rhys’s face was contemplating, but the spymaster… there was a bit of admiration in that glance.

He spoke and my body answered to the depth and smoothness in his voice. “If the Illyrians are working with them, won’t it be curious if an Illyrian shows up in their brothel?”

I nodded, biting my lip. “Rhys,” I said to him, “would be recognizable. But you,” I said, pointing back to the shadowsinger, “I can glamour you. Your face will not be recognized there anyways.”

He raised a brow. “ Glamour my wings?”

“My magic works different from your High Lord’s.” Rhys could glamour things to trick the eye. “My magic can do many strange things. For one, Rhys’s glamour works on the mind, but mine works on the flesh. It’s like I can shapeshift someone else. You’ll lose your wings for a while, visually  _ and _ physically. I’ll change your tattoos and ears too. You’ll have them back when it's over. And the Siphons too.”

I nearly laughed at the slight horror on his expression. 

“I can do it now, if you’d like. So you can get used to the balance of it.”

He gulped--the only sign of his worry.

Rhys laughed next to me. “I promise I’ll make Ryn give you your wings back.”

It seemed to reassure him somewhat and he nodded.

I went up to him slowly and held out my hand. He took it, the scars softly brushing against my hands. 

I fought the desire that rushed through me at the contact with my mate.

“Close your eyes,” I murmured and he trembled slightly, his eyes lighting with hunger at our closeness-- _ Just the mating bond _ , I realized. His instincts were probably doing something to him. He nodded and closed his eyes.

It barely took five seconds.

In a matter of seconds, his wings were gone and his tattoos had faded. His Siphons were missing and his ears were pointed.

I frowned. It made him less beautiful--not in the way he looked, but felt. I suddenly missed the wings, but laughed as he stumbled and I caught him.

His eyes were wide as he pulled back, one hand braced against the wall. “I… It’s strange. The balance, everything.” He was panting in surprise as he lifted a finger and brushed it over his pointed ear.

Behind me, Rhys was laughing his ass off.

“Here,” I said carefully, slipping his arm over my shoulder. He tried walking with me, stumbling and swaying backwards every few seconds. Ten minutes later, he was able to walk normally, except for the occasional sway.

Rhys was still laughing, but something suddenly crossed his mind and he stopped, dragging Azriel off to get changed for our journey.

I tried to brush off the feeling of his arm around my shoulders and failed, slipping off into my rooms after yelling to Rhys, “Ten minutes,” and telling Tarquin how to take care of the house.

I changed quickly into my clothes--fit for an officer of Hybern’s nastiest society. The dark pants were practical and comfortable, the waist embroidered in red, along with the thigh-high grey boots. The black shirt was on the more revealing side, short-sleeved and embroidered with the same whorls of red, barely skimming my navel. My cloak was bright red, the inside coated with grey fur. 

I pinned the medal over my chest and strapped on select pieces of black armor over my hips and boots and forearms. I slung my bandolier of throwing knives over my chest, and strapped the twin black Illyrian blades in an “x” down my back.

Everything was in their colors, the reds and blacks and occasional ashy greys. Somehow, it made me seem lethal and sultry at the same time. A good combination for their kind. It was all tight fitting and glorious, the way a queen of their kind was expected to look.

Rhys knocked at the door and ushered Azriel in with him, without so much as checking whether I was ready or not. I tied my hair into a braid and froze as the spymaster’s eyes ran over me, lingering on my midriff a second longer. 

Hunger shone in those eyes, enough to make me freeze. 

I coughed and turned fully to them, taking in Az’s appearance.

I frowned.

“If you want them to take you in,” I murmured, walking up to him, “you need to look a bit less conservative.”

His eyes tracked me as I loosened his jacket, baring it open, and unbuttoned the two top buttons of his shirt. He’d scrapped armor, but kept his blade at his side.

“Truth-Teller,” I said quietly, reading the runes on the side of his blade. 

He looked at it and frowned. He wouldn’t be taking it off anytime soon.

“I can glamor it so that its still there, but others can’t see it. Is that okay?”

His hazel eyes met mine. “That’s fine.”

“Be wary of it, though,” I said softly. 

He nodded and I looked back at Rhys who was faintly smirking. His face faltered slightly at the sight of his wingless brother and his eyes met mine. “You bring them both back, Ryn.”

I inclined my head. He wasn’t asking as a High Lord, but as a friend.

“I will.”

I grabbed Azriel’s hand and winnowed.


	6. Chapter 6

_ My mate _ . This beautiful, devastating creature was my  _ mate _ .

I didn’t know whether to be angry that it wasn’t Mor or glad of it. I didn’t know what to do or say to her, except push it down. We were going into danger and the last thing I needed was to worry about her.

But all that filled my mind was  _ her _ . That smell of lavender and linen which snapped through me. The smooth skin of her muscled stomach. Her soft voice which wasn’t fragile in the way other females’ were. Her movements, each predator-like. Her fingers, which had brushed my skin and unbuttoned my clothes.

I cursed my instincts, which roared at me to pin her against the wall and take her.

_ She was mine she was mine she was mine. _

But she wasn’t. 

And… I didn’t think she wanted me. If she had been Rhys’s lover once then she must know about Mor. Everyone knew it, pretended they didn’t. My golden warrior and then… her. A creature of night and darkness with a smile that made my shadows run away against my will.

She was beautiful, even more so in that stupid armor that accentuated every part of her body.

Guilt flooded me. 

She was hurt and  _ tortured. _ Why would she want a  _ torturer _ like me? Why would she want an Illyrian bastard? Why should I have any right to ponder these things when I was in love with another woman?

But the thoughts kept swirling as we winnowed through darkness.

She hadn’t glamored my scars and I wasn’t sure if it was a relief. And I didn’t know what to feel when she’d looked at me changed, High Fae, and been dissatisfied. Should I have been happy that she preferred the Illyrian, or should I have been upset?

And… she had been in love with Rhys, as my friend had been with her. I had no right to touch her like this or look at her. Not without his permission.

But she didn’t seem to care about permission.

Or me.

We landed silently in a dark alley corner in the middle of nowhere.

I dismissed my shadows and waited as she held a finger over her lips.

A guard passed by the alleway.

She turned to me and gently took my wrist. I let her like I had not let anyone. She understood what shackles had been like, like I did. She was considerate in her grip, her fingers barely brushing my wrists.

But I wanted more contact.

Those instincts roared again as my eyes brushed over her stomach. I wanted to take her here. 

In the middle of Hybern. 

I wanted her screaming my name, I wanted-

_ Control yourself _ , Rhys’s voice chuckled in my mind. I reined in my instincts as she began leading me further into the labyrinth. 

_ Go to hell _ , I left the thought lingering in my brain and he found it, his voice chuckling. I slammed down my mental shield and his voice remained cackling on the other side. I glared as if he were in front of me, realizing instead that Ryn was staring at me.

“He’s a pain in the ass, isn’t he?” she said with a faint smile as she realized who had been speaking to me.

I shrugged, swaying a bit as I underestimated my loss of my wings, but she steadied me and that roaring returned.

Her eyes roamed over me, soft. “I’m feeling the same things as you are right now.” My eyes slid to her lips against my will. She licked them and I shuddered. Her fingers lifted my chin and my eyes met hers; I was ready to take her in this place, if need be. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I know you don’t actually want to feel those things and I won’t hold it against you.”

An invisible wall settled between us.

_ Off limits _ , I thought to myself. The roaring went away and she tipped her head contemplating, before swiveling us around.

“There should be red-caped officers arriving in twenty minutes at the tavern over there.” She dipped a finger into a vial at her side, and painted a red line along my collarbone. Her finger seared me into my soul, and I realized what she was doing. “This paint will mark you as a contender for the brothel. They’ll ask questions. Answer with as little emotion as you can, but feel free to prance around and look pretty.”

I laughed softly at the “look pretty” part.

She smiled faintly and closed the vial, tucking it away. “Though I have no worries of you being accepted given your handsome face, should you be rejected, then wait nearby and I’ll get her out myself. It may take a couple of days.”

A part of me stirred at the thought that she found me  _ handsome. _

“My scars,” I said, holding out my burned hands. “They might be recognized if there are any Illyrians there.”

She took my hands and I watched, breathless, as she kissed the burns on them. “I can’t glamor them,” she said. “When you get rid of such things, you never get them back. And then you forget a piece of yourself.” My heart burned as she looked at me, eyes bright. “I glamored my scars many centuries ago, and despite my pride in them, I haven’t been able to  _ want _ them back. I abused my power and in the process I lost a piece of me. I’ll take the risk of Illyrians noticing them, but I won’t use my power that way.”

I didn’t know how to respond. 

No one had ever said anything like that to me, and somehow the words brushed my heart, making it feel… warm again. 

Not as cold as it had been for centuries.

“Now go,” she said gently, pushing me towards the tavern, where drunken revelry sang out from. 

“Thank you,” I said without turning back. A thought suddenly hit me. “What is the plan once I’m in the brothel?”

She didn’t respond and I turned around, but… she was gone. A phantom on the mist. 

All I had was trust. And I trusted her. Not for being my mate, but because she knew pain as I did.

I sighed and slipped into the tavern, weary of my weight distribution as I climbed the steps.

It took all but twenty minutes before the red-caped officers arrived, sweeping through the tavern with ease.

A few people who, like me, had their collarbones painted were ushered into a corner of the tavern. The drunken revelers who were here for nothing but a drink were kicked out and the doors slammed shut.

I was with about fifty others, evenly male and female. And, given the officers’ speech, there were only places for twenty-five of us.

I could see why Kieryn resented these people so much. The volunteers were all here willingly, mostly poor in search of food and shelter, giving in turn the use of their bodies. And Ryn… she had sacrificed her body too. To escape the torture and whatever it was they had burned into her body.

I hadn’t asked about that dark magic. She’d never said anything, and I had a feeling that it extended beyond basic glamoring. There was more she was hiding. I longed for the day that I’d watch Ryn release her power and turn it back on the people who had given it to her.

A white-haired High Fae pulled me aside, her teeth gleaming as she  _ inspected me _ . I kept my face neutral as she walked in circles around me, her eyes lingering on the open bit of chest Ryn had strategically exposed. Her eyes then landed on my hands and she called over a fellow officer, a large, bearded Fae.

“His hands,” she said, grabbing them roughly. “Do you think he’s worth our time?”

I let the rage in me turn into ice. Glittering and sharp.

The male lifted my chin. “Gwen likes to burn her males. Maybe she’ll have fun with him.”

I froze, my hands heating up with the memory. 

Fire.

My hands were burning, they were sweating and I was going to break down. I swayed slightly and gulped, focusing on anything cool, anything--

Ryn’s lips.

She had kissed my hands and they’d felt normal.

I let the feeling rein me back into reality. The feeling of her warm and soft lips grounding me to reality.

I looked back at the officers who were studying me carefully. 

“Take him in,” the male officer snarled, throwing me into the group of chosen Fae. I let out a breath of relief as the inspections continued and I was one of ten chosen males and fifteen females.

“Follow,” the female officer snapped. Several officers formed a cage around us and ushered us through the tavern into a hidden staircase. We descended down a ladder for about an hour until the air settled and became cool.

Five minutes through a narrow tunnel and then… 

This was a goddamn city, living under a city.

The roof of the cavern was like an underground sky, arching over a city of properly built homes and buildings. It was as if we were in the belly of a black dragon. 

People watched us with disdain as we meandered through the city at about midnight--though the sky was absent, I could feel the weariness taking over me--taking the cobblestone road to the massive castle looming in the distance. The city, made mostly of dark wood and rock, was assembled like Velaris, each block made with incredible detail and strategy.

I understood why Ryn couldn’t bring this place down on her own. It would take an army.

We meandered for nearly half an hour before we reached the castle, embedded in the corner of the massive city against the rock. It was made of black obsidian, and carved into it were dragons, whirling and snarling. The flowers here gave off black smoke, a similar color to their petals. Red roses were the only burst of color, climbing in writhing vines over the front of the castle.

We passed through the gates, guarded by black-armored soldiers. Two massive bowls of greyish flame rose as we passed into the castle. 

We were kept mostly out of sight of the castle residents, pushed through servant passages until we reached the brothel--which was built into the throne room.

At the end of the massive, low-ceiling room was an arch of black thrones, fashioned like a council chamber. They were elevated by a dais and faced the other end of the room, where thinly curtained-off sofas and chaises and pillows marked the beginning of the brothel.

“ _ This _ ,” our female overseer began, “is your home for the next month. You will sleep here only when the residents of the castle have all left, and will be served two meals a day in the adjoining dining room. Incorrect behavior will be apprehended. There is a party tonight and you are all expected to service anyone who approaches you.”

I flinched at the looks on the faces around me--on the people who were eager to sacrifice and fuck to get their food.

“The party is to celebrate the returning of one of our leaders, Kieryn.”

_ Leader _ . She wasn’t just a member or a high-ranking one, but a  _ leader _ .

“As such, if you are claimed by her, you are expected to follow her orders. I expect you all to get dressed into these clothes and be ready within ten minutes.” She gestured to a pile of clothing--hardly anything more than scraps.

_ Ten minutes _ was all we had to get ready. 

My legs were sore from the hour-long descent and walk to the castle. Without the wings, I felt… weightless. My Illyrian training rendered me in better shape than some of the others around me, who were in obvious pain. 

This whole place was horrible.

I’d return with Kieryn when she razed this place to the ground.

I followed the orders of the overseers and slipped into my clothing--if you could even call it that. The shirt was dark and had no buttons, leaving a long vertical line of bare skin. My pants were at least normal, unlike the poor lacy scraps the women were forced into.

We changed quickly in the adjoining dining room and only a few minutes seemed to have flitted by before the overseers grabbed us and lined us by the door leading into the brothel throne room.

Voices had already picked up on the other side of the door, and the sound of clinking bottles began. We were pushed in one at a time, little murmurs erupting as each of us was pushed in. When my turn came and I was the last to enter, I calmed myself and strode in.

The room was wild as I came in and I ignored the nasty feeling eating away at me as eyes roamed all over my body.

I lingered towards the edge of the crowd, praying that no one would approach me.

The music began, horribly seductive--undoubtedly woven by some cruel magic. Then, the smell of smoke, strangely intoxicating, rose up and I scrambled to hold onto my mind.

These people were horrible and cruel. They wanted us to feel like we would forget the night, but keep us on the edge of sanity so we could remember each touch, each glance.

I waited silently, watching as some of my group was taken by leaders and officers. It seemed the leaders got their picks first, and then the officers and commoners.

The band they’d placed around my wrist marked me as untaken and within another minute a red-caped woman strode towards me, her eyes glued to my hands in a way that told me who she was: Gwen.

The female who enjoyed burning her males.

She reached out a hand to take me when the door burst open and the room went quiet.

And she came in.

If I wasn’t already struggling with the mating bond’s pull to her, I certainly was now.

Her dress was similar to the gold one she’d worn earlier today, except this one was blood red and far,  _ far _ more provocative.

It was cut in similar places, but the dress was made of a silky, translucent material that did little to hide her hips or her breasts.

I felt the room change as she came in, a dark smile playing on the red lips I could not remove my eyes from. She slid into the center throne, her legs attracting the attention of all the males--and some females--in the room. A blue-eyed man stared at her especially intently, and I fought my rage as Ryn looked at him and smiled in a way that promised trouble.

Her eyes roamed over the room and the music continued as her co-leaders flocked to her side and began talking to her. Her eyes eventually found mine and I wondered if the lust in her eyes was acted or real as she looked at the muscle of my stomach, then lower.

She broke the gaze and turned to a servant nearby, whispering something.

Gwen was gone by now, to her co-leader’s side. The servant approached me.

“The guest of honor has chosen you.”

The male brothel overseer from before grinned at his female counterpart as I was led up the dais and to her side.

Some of the other leaders already had pretty males and females in their laps and didn’t give me much attention. Ryn smiled at me, and I could feel the weight of the guilt in it as she patted the hand rest of her throne.

I sat there, but she didn’t touch me. Part of me hoped that she would, but another part of me was grateful for the consideration. All she did was lay a hand on my knee, reassuring me.

Nearly three hours into the party, after she’d spoken to some others, did a conversation of value finally arise.

Gwen smirked as she looked at Ryn.

“We gained a rather interesting ally.”

Ryn raised a brow. “Oh?”

I noticed how her ear was pointed now--no longer Illyrian.

“Rhysand’s Illyrians. Got a whole hoard of them. Their High Lady, too.”

Ryn’s acted surprise was convincing and Gwen said more softly, “Would you like to be there for the ceremony? We’re harvesting her power for the Illyrians.”

Ryn smiled, her grin dark and cruel. “I will certainly attend.”

“Good,” Gwen said, leaning back into her chosen male. “Tonight, she’s being drugged. Tomorrow at sunrise, she’ll be transported to the chamber”

Ryn’s finger brushed higher on my thigh and I understood what she was conveying. 

That would be the time to get Feyre out.

She continued her stroking and Gwen noticed with a frown. “We meet at the chamber at one. You can have the honors of killing her so we can harvest it.”

Ryn nodded, her head leaning on my side. 

The entire room tracked the movement, especially the blue-eyed male from earlier. 

He looked as if he would shred me to pieces, like he  _ wanted _ her. Let him try, then. 

I stroked my fingers through Ryn’s hair, smirking at him all the while.

I grinned at the anger on his face as she tilted her head towards me and brushed a kiss against my thigh.

The sight of it made me shift slightly, away from the building ache in my pants.

I needed her. In that dress… up close, I could see  _ everything _ . I wanted it off of her. Not only because of the mating bond, but because of… her. She was kind and soft and understood my fears without me voicing them. I wanted to take her. Now.

She noticed the tension and removed her head from my leg, standing up swiftly. She turned to me and held out a hand.

She was playing on the tension.

“Thank you all for the wonderful party,” she said aloud to the crowd. “I have to admit, I’ve drunk a bit too much and must retire to my rooms.”

The lie was blatantly obvious, as it was meant to be--a poor excuse for her early retreat to her rooms. She wasn’t tired, the crowd knew that. They assumed based on what they saw, on the tension between me and her. Their jealous glances confirmed enough.

“Come,” Ryn said to me, her dark lips curling in a smile. I followed her out of the room and she didn’t say a word as we slipped out of the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS This chapter is very explicit hehe. I haven't read this in years so again, apologies in advance. ;)

**Azriel**

Kieryn didn’t say a word to me as we made our way through the castle. I could hear the silent whispers as we left, commenting on her, on her dress, on her body.

I fought the desire to go back there and burn them all to ash. 

We walked in silence until Ryn gently halted me and opened a door. She pushed me in and followed, shutting the door.

I felt a ward settle around the room seconds later.

She let out a loud groan of annoyance and flopped onto the bed.

I sighed and plopped down into one of the chaises in the room.

The curtains closed on a phantom wind and the fireplace by the window lit, illuminating the dark room.

The whole room was made of red, embroidered furniture and dark brown and black woods and of a comfortable size. From the entryway, the left side of the room was occupied by a massive white-sheet bed and two night tables. Opposite the door, two dressers and bookshelves flanked the fireplace and the window above. To the right of the entryway, where I sat, was a small area of chaises and smaller cushioned chairs on a red carpet, all surrounding a coffee table. Beyond that, directly across from the bed, was the entryway into the bathing room.

I watched the curve of her body as she rolled over on the bed to face me, locks of dark hair falling over her eyes. She frowned and stood from the bed, sliding over to stand in front of me.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her thumb brushing away the streak of red paint on my collarbone. She traced my cheekbone and I watched, breathless, as she knelt before me and took my jaw in her hands. “When Gwen looked at you like that, I… I knew it was a mistake. Bringing you here.”

Fire flashed through my mind, making my heart race and my body shake impatiently. I shrunk out of her warm grip but she pulled me into her arms instead, whispering soothing noises.

“You’re not burning,” she whispered. Whatever magic she used made my hands feel like ice. They weren’t… they were not… 

“You’re not burning,” she repeated and I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her closer to me, inhaling the smell that soothed me. 

Her hand stroked my hair and her lips brushed a faint kiss to my neck.

I felt myself harden underneath her as she brushed another kiss, this time under my jaw. My fingers trailed down her dress and rested on her hips to soothe her, but instead the lack of undergarments I found there made my blood catch on fire.

…And not in the way I had feared. I was burning in a way I  _ wanted _ .

She gasped softly as my hand ventured upwards, brushing against her backside and I lost it as a soft moan escaped her lips and she panted, her body shaking slightly.

I opened my mouth to tell her how I felt not about the mating bond, but maybe about her, about what I was starting to feel, when a knock sounded.

She jolted away and my heart ached at the look on her face: regret.

She turned around quickly and realized what we were supposed to have been doing. She slipped a strap of her dress over her shoulder and ruffled her hair. 

The sheen of sweat coating her neck wasn’t faked.

She let the mask slip over her face as I loosened my shirt and pulled my pants a bit lower. She opened the door and I watched in surprise as her face lit up and she  _ squealed _ .

She grabbed the person outside of her door and pulled him in, her eyes bright and… happy.

I pulled my pants higher and closed my shirt a bit as the male turned and met my eyes.

Blue. His eyes were blue.

It was the male from the crowd earlier, who had looked at Kieryn as if he…  _ loved _ her. Kieryn was grinning broadly as she kissed him on the cheek.

I felt my heart sink as I watched the lips which had just been on  _ my _ body--on my neck and jaw--part in another smile… for him.

“Azriel,” she began and I swore it was the first time she’d ever said my name aloud, “this is my spy, Erin.”

The male managed a smile, but I could feel the restraint in it as he held out a hand. I stood and shook it.

“Nice to meet you,” he said coldly and Ryn frowned.

I nodded, glaring at the way his eyes ran over Ryn.

_ Mine mine mine _ , my instincts sang out.

“Oh right,” Ryn said and grabbed my hand. Before I comprehend what she was doing, magic began flowing from her body into mine and I felt my ears reshape, along with my tattoos burn back into my skin, and my wings return.

The blue-eyed male looked at me differently now, with almost a sense of superiority. He was High Fae. But there was also fear in that gaze too.

“Rhysand’s Shadowsinger?” he asked, turning suddenly to Ryn. My heart fluttered at the pride in her gaze. 

“Yes. And my mate.”

My eyes widened at the added words said with such pride and… possessiveness. 

_ I _ had wanted to shout them at the male earlier, to tell him she was mine, but to have  _ her _ saying it… I grinned at the male.

His eyes were wide and he looked scared. I realized then what their relationship was--he was in love with Ryn, but she didn’t feel similarly. Ryn stared between us, and I wondered if she could smell the battle for dominance between us.

“You know, he doesn’t bite,” she said to Erin. The male’s dark hair shifted as he sized me up.

Erin finally managed to tear his eyes away from me, though I could smell his wrath. “You’re getting Feyre, aren’t you? Can you trust him?”

The words were meant to hurt me, to make her doubt me, but once again I was hit with pure delight as she smirked at Erin and said, “Undoubtedly.” 

“I can make sure that-”

“How long is the walk from the cells to the chamber?” she asked, cutting Erin off.

“Ten minutes,” he said. “Ryn, you know, I can help. I don’t mind-”

“I have all the help I need,” she said, her eyes giving me a satisfactory glance. I felt my shadows returning, swarming around me. “Take my warning, Erin. Get out of here tonight.”

His eyes were wide. “I could never leave you-”

“The guards on patrol are going to start wondering why  _ two _ males in my bed aren’t making me moan loud enough. They might try to come in and join.”

Erin’s fist curled. 

Ryn was dismissing him.

I chuckled as the male left, slamming the door behind him.

I looked at Ryn, praying she would continue what we had started before Erin had entered. I wanted her hands in my hair again, her lips on my jaw.

Something in her eyes told me she wanted the same, but she sighed and began stripping off her clothes.

_ What was I thinking _ ? I’d barely known this female for a couple hours, but I wanted her. How had Rhysand dealt with the stupid bond for so long? 

I was less patient than I thought.

I froze when her dress was pulled up almost to the apex of her thighs. She looked at me pointedly and I gulped, turning to give her some privacy.

I heard her dress land on the floor, and then heard as the drawer opened and clothing being removed. By the time she’d indicated it was okay, I turned to see her fully clothed in comfortable pants and a sweater. She wriggled her toes, which were wrapped in soft-looking socks.

“There are some male clothes in there too,” she said pointing to the dresser. “Your overseer put them in there.”

I rummaged through the drawer and pulled out a thin white shirt and dark, loose and soft pants. I watched as she turned away, burying her head into the pillow while I took my clothes off.

By the time I was clothed, she was already nestled in the blankets. 

“I can sleep on the chaise,” I said mostly to myself, but she patted the spot on the bed next to her. 

“There’s more than enough room for the two of us.”

I wanted to tell her that space wasn’t the concern, that I might fuck her if I ended up being so close to her.

She was half-asleep though as I gently lifted the blanket and slipped under.

There  _ was _ a considerable amount of space between us, but I wished there wasn’t. She turned to face me and laid a hand on my chest.

“If you ever have a panic attack like that again, tell me,” she murmured, her voice sleepy. I took her hand in mine, for once unafraid that my scars were brushing her soft hands. 

“Thank you,” I whispered.

I watched her for five minutes before it became unbearable. Before all I could think about was what she’d look like, naked, underneath me.

“Ryn, I think I’m going to sleep on that chaise.”

“Nonsense,” she mumbled into the pillow, her fingers tightening around mine.

“ _ Ryn _ ,” I said more urgently and she opened one eye to look at me. 

“What is it? Do you want more space?”

I sucked in a long breath. “Ryn, if I stay this close to you, I don’t think I can… control myself.”

She laughed softly, and pulled closer to me. “Do you  _ want _ to control yourself, Azriel?”

My breathing became uneven as her breast brushed the corner of my wing.

“I want to take you in this bed,” I said, praying she didn’t throw me out of the room. “I want to bury myself inside of you and make you moan my name.”

To my relief, she smiled. Her fingers left my hand and trailed to the outer corner of my wing, brushing it slightly. “What’s stopping you?”

“I… I want to be sure that this isn’t just the mating bond, but the pressure building up… I can’t think straight anymore.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, a finger down my wing making me groan. I could feel my cock stirring. “I need you to be thinking straight for our mission tomorrow.”

“ _ Ryn _ ,” I moaned as her tongue traced a line on my wing. No one had ever done that. And it felt…  _ exquisite _ . “I… I won’t be able to hold back if you-”

“I’m helping you release tension,” she said, her voice husky. Her eyes brightened and I gasped as she rolled over and sat on top of me.

Her eyes were blazing as she shifted her hips on me, making me moan and grip her hips down harder.

“Are you-”

“I’m sure,” she chuckled. Her mouth came down on my neck, kissing me roughly along my collarbone and up, up to my jaw. Her fingers buried themselves in my hair, while her other hand began stroking the building ache in my cock through my pants.

I groaned as her lips found mine, soft and patient at first, and then rough and demanding.

I flipped her over, pushing her under me as I continued the kiss. Her fingers pulled at my hair as my hand slipped between her legs, rubbing against the apex of her thighs, which was… wet. She cried out, one of her hands grabbing my forearm as she arched into me. I nearly fainted at the sight, at the feeling of her.

I kissed her deeper, my tongue meeting hers, and brushed a knuckle against her breast. Then I grabbed it, pushing at it with my palm through the thin fabric. She moaned loudly against my mouth, her wicked fingers stroking my wings. 

“ _ Azriel _ .” I lost it as she cried out my name.

I pulled her into my lap, roughly pressing my lips to her neck and clothed breasts.

She rode me through my clothes, bouncing against me. Every time she moaned, I melted a bit more. When I couldn’t handle it any further and I made to slip my fingers under her nightdress, she stopped me, pushing me onto my back.

“I want to release the tension, yes,” she murmured as she began unlacing my pants. “Some of it, though. Not all of it.”

I understood what she was saying.

We wouldn’t consummate this, not until we knew for sure it wasn’t just the mating bond driving us together. But I didn’t care if it was love or the bond as her hand wrapped around my length and she smiled at me. She kissed my lips once before putting her mouth on me, her tongue sliding over my cock.

“You’re huge,” she panted as she stroked a hand down me, and flicked her thumb over the tip of my length.

I groaned, watching as she filled me to the edge with her mouth, moving her head up and down. She sped up, her tongue driving me insane when coupled with her hands. I groaned again as the edge glimmered, as she continued to slide her hand over me faster and faster, as her tongue flicked over the sensitive spot on my left wing.

I came, roaring as she laughed with a dark grin. She kissed me through it, her lips warm and soft and wicked.

My mate.

My mate had done this to me. 

I wanted to take her, now. I needed to at least bury my fingers in her, but the weariness showed in her eyes as she rolled over and whispered, “Goodnight.” Before I could even thank her, she was snoring softly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Kieryn**

I sighed as I pulled the Illyrian leathers over my body and began strapping on weapons. I was tired and after last night… I didn’t think either of us chose to do what we did. The bond had intoxicated me. All I could think about while I laid by his side was his body, the taste of him. And the curiosity had won out, especially when he had offered himself to me.

I watched where he was draped on the bed, his wings spread out as he softly snored. His hair was ruffled slightly, parted where I’d run my fingers through it last night. His mouth was slightly open as shadows floated around him, cocooning him protectively. His face and posture were soft, relaxed.

I smiled at the sight.

He was my mate.

Even if… 

The thought slammed into me. He was in love with another woman and I had totally forgotten, and I’d… 

Oh gods.

_ Have you located Feyre yet? _ Rhys’s voice filled my mind and I frowned, braiding back my hair.

_ Yes. We are making an attempt to get her in about thirty minutes. _

His returning answer was soft and tentative.  _ Thank you. For agreeing to do this. _

I left my answer floating in my head for him to pick up.  _ I did it for her. Not you. _

_ I know. _

_ You’ll have to excuse me,  _ I thought to him,  _ your giant bat seems to have overslept. _

_ Has he now? I never expected him to be the oversleeping type. _

I chuckled and Azriel stirred.  _ I left him quite exhausted last night. _

_ Did you  _ have _ to? _

_ Mm? You left me locked in a room with a handsome male all night. Did you expect anything else to happen? _

_ Wait. Did you really fuck him? _

_ No _ , I chuckled, slamming down my mental barrier. I could feel him clawing at it, to no avail.

“Feeling less  _ tense _ ?” I said aloud as Azriel stirred on the bed. His eye turned to me lazily and then… widened as he realized what we had done.

He practically tumbled out of the bed, tangling in the blankets and falling into a heap on the floor. 

I laughed at the sight.

“We’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” I said, tossing him his pants. “Be ready. I’m going to do a run of the hallways.”

I didn’t give him a chance to say anything, and I could feel his eyes bearing into my back as I slipped outside the door.

I paced through the halls with a shield around me, rendering me invisible to their eyes.

There were only a few guards and I wouldn’t risk eradicating them now, not until we were moving through the halls. If we did it now, then the rotating guards might notice the bodies and grow suspicious.

I slipped back into the room fifteen minutes later.

Azriel was already in his armor, the Illyrian leathers similar to mine. His wings were out and his Siphons flared at my entrance. His shadows swirled around him faster now, whispering things to him I couldn’t understand. He had a beautiful blade strapped down his spine, similar in make to the two swords down my back. While I had an arsenal of throwing knives, he had Truth-Teller at his side. I had no doubt he could do plenty of damage with one knife and one sword.

“Ready?” I said softly. He looked up to me, his dark lashes framing his beautiful eyes.

_ Off limits _ , I reminded myself. He didn’t belong to me. He had given me his body last night, but not his heart. That belonged to another female.

My flinch and frown must have been visible because he took my hand in his. “Ryn, can we talk about-”

“No,” I said sharply. His eyes searched mine.

“Do you… regret it?”

He looked as if he wanted me to say  _ no _ , that I had enjoyed it. That wasn’t a fair question at all. And I  _ had _ enjoyed it, but knowing I was touching another female’s male made me… sick. I didn’t want to be used as a… “I was a distraction for you,” I said roughly. My voice faltered but I pulled through. “You are in love with another woman, and no matter how much I enjoyed last night I should have never done it. And neither should you have.”

“Ryn-”

“Az,” I murmured. He relaxed at the familiar mention of his name. “It won’t happen again.”

I ignored the fallen look on his face. “Let’s go,” I said. “Can you shroud yourself from sight?”

He nodded, his jaw tight as if holding back words.

“Good,” I said. “Here’s the plan: I’ll eradicate the guards as we go through. When we get to Feyre, you carry her--she’ll likely be drugged. I’ll take care of any guards, but take the brothel entrance. It’s the fastest way out of here.”

He nodded, his fingers brushing my elbow as if to say something else, but he retracted them quickly and echoed my words, “Let’s go.”

I glamored myself, visible only to him. He wreathed himself in shadows, his body becoming invisible to me and everyone. He brushed his wing against me to let me know he was there and we slipped out.

We walked down several hallways until we met the first guard, which I misted.

We continued over several corners and staircases and hallways, and all the while I misted guards, leaving no trace.

“Why the hell did you bring weapons if you’re just going to mist everyone?” he chuckled beside me.

“You’ll see,” I said, spurring him forward. We walked for about five more minutes before I yanked his arm and pulled him into a broom closet.

We barely fit inside and his shadows opened for me to see his body.

“Why are we-”

I pressed my finger against his lip. His mouth immediately shut, and I could feel his body restraining against mine, barking at him  _ and _ me to take each other here and now.

It really was just the mating bond then, wasn’t it?

I watched through the cracks in the wood until their cadre appeared, and between them a wobbling, brown-haired and blue-eyed Fae. 

Just as I had imagined her to be… beautiful and strong.

“Feyre,” Az whispered next to me.

I took his hand and glamored him back into his role from last night--the wingless High Fae in little clothing-- glamoring myself back into that weaponless red dress I’d worn.

We stumbled out of the closet, and I laughed, kissing him hard.

He pushed me against the wall, and I knew it wasn’t acting as his eyes glazed over with predatory hunger.

I pushed him off as I  _ casually _ noticed the group of gathered soldiers, twenty of them at least.

I could mist them all I wanted.

But Rhys would want blood spilled for her. For what they’d done.

The group of soldiers bowed to me, and I watched as Feyre’s eyes widened at the male behind me, slowly recognizing him in his new form.

One of the soldiers ran up to me and repeated the information about Feyre’s execution.

I felt Az slip behind me, giving me access to his hand and in a second, I removed the glamor from us both.

He was a brilliant fighter and his blades made quick work of the guards around us. I couldn’t help but admire the way he moved, Siphons flaring, forming weapons and shields. He was fast.

I was faster.

I unsheathed ten of my throwing knives sending them flying one after another into the hearts of the other males. One of the soldiers ran towards me, but I used his speed to my advantage, rolling out of the way as the sword met with the flesh of another guard. Another soldier ran at me, aiming low and I rolled over his back, cutting his throat as I went, and driving my sword through his companion’s chest.

In hardly a minute they all went down. 

“That was boring,” I hummed, looking at the fallen bodies and then noticing that Feyre was still rocking about.

“Can you get the shackles off?” Az asked me, his eyes filled with concern.

I took Feyre’s hand and she let me without shying away. I let my magic hum into her body, harnessing some of Helion’s magic, which I’d heard she knew how to wield. Her eyes widened as she realized I was using her dormant power as my own, and after a blinding flash the shackles disintegrated.

“Who are you?” she whispered, stumbling. Az caught her and lifted her against his chest.

I frowned at the sight.

I ignored Feyre’s question, waiting.

“We need to go,” Az said to me, blood covering his armor. 

“Any minute now,” I murmured to myself.

“ _ Kieryn, we need to go now _ .” I turned to him and smiled, brushing a kiss onto his cheek. His eyes widened and Feyre studied me strangely.

“Go to the brothel, take her out from there.”

“ _ Kieryn _ -”

“If I planned correctly, Erin is about betray us and send a horde of guards here.” His eyes widened, contemplating the possessiveness I’d shown over him last night. My words and desires  _ weren’t _ faked but I could see him thinking so, his face falling.

“I’ll fight with you,” he said softly, his eyes broken.

“I meant the things I said last night, Az. I also meant it when I said I’d burn this place to ashes one day.”

“All of it?” he breathed, his eyes widening as he realized how big this place was.

I turned to him, memorizing the lines of his face should I not see them again. “All of it that is bad.”

“Ryn, I won’t let you do it alone.”

I smiled softly and placed my palm on his cheek. “It was good knowing you.”

“ _ Ryn, I will not let you do this alone _ ,” he snarled.

“I know,” I whispered, placing a hand on his arm. He watched as I harnessed another aspect of my power, pushing it into his body. I smashed the wards first, and then I winnowed _him_ _and Feyre_ out of the castle, to the exit from this city.

I felt his absence burn through me as I turned, smirking at the new face that greeted me.

“Hello Erin.”

Fifty guards stood behind him.

I unleashed the power they had given me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Azriel**

No.  _ No. _

I felt the world slip away from me, her grey eyes looking at me… for the last time.

She winnowed  _ us _ away from her, to the other end of the city. Feyre clung to me, disoriented. I couldn’t leave her, but Kieryn--I had to get to her. Not because she was my mate, but also because she was my friend and I… I think I was falling in love with her.

With her wit and kindness, with her  beautiful body and smile. With her power and strength. With her story and her understanding of _me_.

I had wanted to tell her that, how I was falling in love with  _ her _ , had been for a while. 

And I might never get that.

The ground rumbled, and a small chunk of rock plummeted down from the ceiling.

Something was wrong. 

Horribly wrong.

I felt the ground begin to shake, a loud roar like that of a dragon ring out from the direction of the castle. Something stirred in me, the mating bond, telling me to run.

My shadows began spinning, whispering into my ear. 

_ Death, death, death _ , they screamed at me and I froze as a shield made of black surrounded me and Feyre. 

Kieryn’s shield.

Another rumble shattered through the city and then… death broke free.

I had never felt such power. Rhys’s magic couldn’t compare to this… There was only screaming, in my bones and in my flesh. I was in a shield and yet I still felt as if my skin was being shredded, my body warped and beaten.

I held onto Feyre as the castle shattered in the distance, a blackish flame breaking free, forming itself into a massive…  _ dragon _ . And in front of it, from the distance, I could see her standing, two blades aflame in her hands, her pupils burning white, as hell exploded.

All I could do was watch as that dragon unleashed itself on the city, burning everything it touched into ash. Tendrils of that same power exploded from under the city, flying skyward and burning everything into ash.

It hardly took five minutes for her to destroy the city and everyone cruel in it, and I honestly felt as if she had dragged it on longer than necessary.

She walked through the city, her eyes grey again. The dragon followed her, crushing buildings underfoot.

There were many people still alive, those that her power had deemed innocent. They were wrapped in a shield like mine, panting from the pain of her power.

Her mouth was bleeding slightly as she came to me, her fingers pressing against the shield. I set Feyre down and pressed my hand against the other side, and I swore I heard her faintly murmur, “I love you.”

Her mouth was bleeding faster now and I wondered if she’d exhausted her power.

She made a little hole in the shield so that I could speak to her.

“Ryn,” I whispered. “It’s over.”

She was panting and I watched in horror as blood came faster out of her mouth.

“Ryn?”

She laid her head against the shield. “Az,” she said softly. 

“You’re safe,” I whispered.

Her eyes looked into mine, sad. They were the color of a storm given flesh.

“My power, it isn’t drained,” she whispered, quelling my fears. “I just haven’t used it in a long time, and it takes a large toll.”

“Good,” I whispered. “Now bring down the shield.”

“Az, I told you that some scars can’t be removed. That some things live in you forever if you try to ignore them.”

“Ryn…”

“Coming back here, I told Rhysand, would ruin me. I can’t come back with you. I need to bury this city, and I need to go with it.”

“Ryn,” my voice was cold. “Stop it. Don’t be ridiculous.”

She pulled away, her eyes tracking mine slowly.

“ _ Kieryn _ .”

“I wish I had more time to know you, Azriel. If we had more time, I might have fallen for you, you know?”

“KIERYN,” I screamed, trying to shatter her shield. But it was too strong,  _ she _ was too strong.

“I might have loved you,” she said again, her tears streaming faster. “I would have loved you,” she said over and over and over again, never breaking her gaze from my eyes.

“Ryn,” I moaned, pounding against the shield, begging her to let me out. To let me stop her.

“I’m sorry, Az. I am weaker than I wanted to admit.” The words were said with such finality and I dropped to my knees, screaming as the roof of the city came down and buried everything in rubble.

My sunlight was lost to the darkness. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Azriel**

Numb. I felt numb. I couldn’t think, couldn’t feel as the wall of the cavern came crashing down, burying everything in dust and rubble.

She was gone in an instant, buried under hundreds of feet of rubble. But her shield held out until the entire city was buried, until sunlight washed over me, bright and cruel and incinerating.

In the end, the shield kept me alive--kept everything good in the city alive just above the mountain of grey and black rubble.

I slumped to my knees as the shield around me shattered, something in my heart breaking with it too.

“Az,” a female voice whispered and I began crying as Feyre laid her hand on my shoulder.

I don’t think I’d ever cried in centuries, not like this. 

Never like this.

My heart was gaping, empty.

Darkness fluttered and I felt him winnow in.

“Feyre,” Rhysand whispered, grabbing his mate and crushing her into a hug. Her drugs had worn off and she whispered something to him I chose to ignore.

“Az,” Rhys said and I turned, watching his smile falter.

I knew he could see the loss on my face, the anger slowly surfacing.

“Az, where is she?”

The numbness melted away into burning rage, into a wrath I could not, and did not want to control.

“ _ Azriel, answer me _ .” The High Lord’s voice.

Bullshit.

She was gone. And I had nothing left. I couldn’t even tell her that I might have loved her too if we had more time before she sacrificed her life. She had felt so much pain in that city, and she had warned Rhys, told him that she couldn’t… 

“ _ Azriel _ .”

I didn’t care. I didn’t care if he had been my friend for five hundred centuries. He had done this, he had lied to me for  _ his _ mate, not giving a shit about  _ my _ mate.

Mate.

And so much goddamn more.

I’d hardly known her for two days and I’d never felt this way. But each second I felt her absence I knew it more. I was falling in love with her.

“ _ You killed her _ ,” I snarled at Rhys and he didn’t even have time to draw his blade as I launched myself at him.

He narrowly escaped my first attack, but on the second my blade drove itself into his thigh.

His eyes flared and I could hear Feyre screaming at me, screaming his name. 

I didn’t give a shit. 

He deserved this.

He winnowed behind me, but I winnowed away from him, launching a barrage of blue arrows from my Siphons.

My shadows encased me, whispering his moves a second before he tried them.

There was a shield around us, keeping Feyre out, stopping anyone from stopping us.

Either I would die, or he would.

“Azriel,” he said, panting as his thigh slowly healed, blood leaking. “Stop this.”

I winnowed in front of him, meeting his blade with mine.

He was out of practice with a blade, horribly so.

All of my blows scratched him, slowly gaining.

There was a roaring in my head, and an image: blood leaking from her mouth, her grey eyes broken, lost.

He knew he was losing and I knew that he could mist me if he wanted in a second, if it came to that.

I felt blue flame rise around me, my Siphons burning with a rage so hot that the flames became corporeal and went flying at him.

He shielded, but some of that flame slipped through, burning him.

His healing slowed as our blades crashed and crashed. I parried each of his strikes, landing gashes of my own on him. His black hair was streaked with sweat and blood as his sword blocked a direct shot towards his heart.

“ _ Azriel _ .” His words couldn’t reach me. Not now. 

His eyes lit with understanding as he realized I would kill him if it came to it.

He winnowed away, his blade slicing for my neck. I dodged the blade narrowly and snarled as two figures appeared in the arena, one golden and covered in armor.

Cassian and… Mor.

I laughed, spitting blood onto the floor.

He really thought that bringing Mor here would stop me. I would fight until I died.

But Rhys wasn’t going to leave with me dead. He wanted me alive.

I didn’t have any reasons left to live.

My Siphons flared, and the blue flame swirled over my leathers and around my wings. I could feel Cassian check his blades.

I wouldn’t last long.

But that was the plan, after all.

Cassian launched himself at me while Mor healed Rhysand’s leg.

Cassian was stronger than me with his blade, so I used magic, winnowing and attacking with raw, burning magic.

I met every attack with a slice of my own and a flare of magic. We battled while Rhys looked on, contemplating. I knew he saw very few options left.

… I dropped to my knees, screaming as I felt him grip my mind. 

“Azriel, please,” Mor whispered, but I strained against his magic and he clamped down harder, on the verge of ending me.

I felt black spots swirl at the edge of my vision. He was going to knock me out. He wasn’t going to kill me. And I’d endure this pain forever.

I reached for Truth-Teller and cried out as Cassian’s foot clamped down on my arm.

“I’m sorry,” Rhys whispered.

Blackness overtook my vision.


	11. Chapter 11

**Kieryn**

“Shit,” I muttered, looking at the long, jagged scar down my face.

My stupid magic was death, and because of it I couldn’t die, even with thousands of pounds of rubble on my body.

My body had stayed there, half-crushed, for nearly a week before they’d reached where I was trapped under all the rock. A kind couple had taken me in and tended to my wounds. I’d eventually managed to move out and stayed in different taverns in Cesere.

But some scars remained. 

I sighed and stretched my body, which ached  _ everywhere _ .

I wondered where Az was, what he was feeling.

The mating bond  _ had _ snapped. I’d felt it shatter as I’d died. But my power had brought me back, and even though I was the same person as before, there was no longer any bond there.

It hurt.

A shit ton.

And I wondered if he would still take me back, even without the bond.

I rubbed my aching head.

It had taken me two months to walk again, to breathe without throwing my guts up.

And tonight was Starfall.

I was broken, and I wasn’t sure if I should meet him again, if he had healed and didn’t want me anymore.

So I would go tonight to Velaris to see him from a distance. I wouldn’t meet him. I couldn’t. I just had to make sure that he was okay. That he would heal and be happy again.

I ran my eyes over the dress laid out on the bed of the tavern room. It glinted silver in the candlelight, with the occasional glitter of gold. It was nearly translucent, the silver so milky pale it might have been the same color of the white stars in the sky.

I ran my fingers over the silky material, admiring the piece of finery I’d spent so much money on.

I slipped it on, the lightweight silk accentuating every curve without being too tight. It was in the style I liked so much--classy yet a bit sultry. The straps were thin and the neckline dipped low. The dress cascaded over my body, a slit by my left thigh making the dress pool and trail behind my feet. 

I smiled as I spun in it in front of the mirror.

Despite the scars, I looked beautiful. Even with them.

The low drop in the back of the dress revealed the Illyrian tattoo down my spine, and the scars where my wings had been ripped out, two lightning-shaped jagged scars on my shoulder blades.

I smiled into the mirror, darkening my eyes and lips until the beautiful creature that looked back at me was ethereal. I slipped a silver metal band around my arm, near my shoulder. It was shaped with wings--Illyrian wings. I hadn’t worn it in centuries, but for once I wasn’t afraid of it.

Months of thinking about Az only made my love for him stronger. I cared-- _ beyond _ cared for him, even without the mating bond. I loved him as he was. And I think… I think he may have started to feel the same thing for me.

I slipped out of the tavern, into the sunset-washed streets of Cesere. I sighed at the beauty of the Night Court, how the sky as already dotted with stars.

I winnowed, feeling cold air and shadows slip past me as I landed in Velaris, right by the Rainbow.

I hadn’t been here in centuries, but I remembered each street. I had lived in an apartment nearby while I’d been with Rhys. I’d been up to the House of Wind, too. And his townhouse. Now they lived in a little estate.

I didn’t know where to start searching first, in the estate or the House of Wind. Honestly the thousands of stairs up to the house weren’t appealing, so I meandered through the streets, eventually finding the marble monstrosity which was Rhysand’s home.

The house was deserted, and I looked towards the House of Wind, where lights flickered from the mountaintop.

They were likely up there, which meant… I groaned and lifted my dress, marching across Velaris to the thousands of steps.

And I climbed. 

Every single one of them.

In my stupid heels.

I could have probably winnowed through their wards, but Rhys would have detected me, and I didn’t want to be noticed.

I threw a glamor over myself--rendering my body invisible--when I finally reached the apex of the staircase. Night had finally overtaken the court, and I slipped in with other guests, trying not to bump into anyone.

After five minutes of climbing stairs and trying not to reveal myself, I made it to the main level, where open balconies brought a fresh breeze to my overheated body. All sorts of Fae and High Fae bustled around, drinking and laughing in the moonlight.

Music played faintly and Fae danced in circles, smiling and laughing.

I wanted to join them, to sing and dance and drink with them, but I needed to find him first.

I spotted Rhysand first, and then Feyre with him, laughing in a blue-white dress. I slipped by Cassian--if the seven red Siphons said anything about who the Illyrian was and a stunning blonde female--Mor, then. I noticed Amren quickly as well; she was often in Adriata with Varian. Then two sisters--likely the Archeron sisters--mingling with the group.

But he wasn’t there.

I needed to see him. I wouldn’t leave without doing it.

I slipped behind Rhys, brushing my invisible hand against his shoulder. He turned, his eyes widening as I grabbed his wrist.

He made some shitty excuse to get away and I pulled him into a dark corner of the house.

I ripped away the glamor.

“Where is he?” I whispered.

Rhys looked like he’d seen a ghost. Which was a… reasonable reaction.

“You’re… alive,” he said softly. “But Az acted like the bond had split and you had died.”

“I  _ did _ die, and the bond  _ is _ gone, Rhys. My magic brought me back. I was too injured to come here until now.”

He ran a hand through his hair, breathing roughly. “He tried to  _ kill  _ me, Ryn.” His eyes ran over the massive scar down my face.

“About time someone tried,” I chuckled. But he was skipping around a question. “Where is Az?”

He was still ruffled by my appearance. “He… never really recovered from your death. You really did a number on him,” he said with a solemn smile. 

“Is he…  _ dead _ ?” I choked out, gripping his shoulder.

“No--No he’s alive. He’s holed up in his room. He barely eats or talks. He’s still angry at me. I don’t know how you’re going to explain it to-”

“I’m not,” I said quietly. “I just came to make sure that he was alright. I never intended to meet him.”

Rhys frowned, his violet eyes flickering. “He’s not okay.”

“I’ll decide that for myself,” I hummed, noticing a few wary glances in our direction. “Where are his rooms?”

He sighed and rubbed his jaw. His dark lashes fluttered and he said, “Across from the library.”

“Thank you,” I said with a bright smile. I patted his shoulder and slipped away, weaving through the crowd. I didn’t glamor myself--the only people who could recognize me were Feyre and Rhys. And Az.

I found his room quickly after slipping through several hallways and awkwardly encountering a certain winged male kissing a certain Archeron sister. 

I glamored myself and tried to figure a way in when I heard voices within. Not just Az’s, but another female’s.

“Dinner is being served. The display will start soon, Az. Everyone’s waiting for you.”  _ Mor _ . I’d heard her voice earlier in the party--soft and feminine and strong.

“ _ She _ isn’t.” My mate’s voice broke me. I had wanted to hear that voice for months now. I had dreamed of it and cried when I’d woken to find it gone.

“She’s dead, Azriel,” Mor said to him.

I wanted to scream that I wasn’t, but if there was any chance of him healing without me… I wouldn’t come back.

If he left that room, I would leave and never come back. If he stayed… I would tell him the truth.

“She can’t be,” I heard him whisper. “Mor, you didn’t know her like I did. She  _ understood  _ me.”

“You hardly knew her, Az.”

I could hear a faint snarl.

“I knew her well enough to know that I loved her. And now, waiting for her these past months, I know without a doubt that I loved  _ her _ . Not the bond, but  _ her _ .”

“You love  _ me _ ,” Mor said and I froze, unable to think. “And your family. And we want you to come and join us.”

“That was in the past. She taught me what love really was.”

“Azriel-”

“I’m not coming,” his voice rumbled. “I want to watch it alone from my room.”

I heard Mor stride across the room and open the door. I jumped as I noticed another figure emerge from behind me in a pink dress.

_ Elain. _

“What did he say?” she asked softly. Her cheeks were pink and I suddenly realized that she was in love with him, with my mate. Her face was shining with it.

“He isn’t coming,” Mor said, storming by the fragile girl.

Elain turned to look at Mor, who was facing away from us. “Maybe I can try.”

Mor swiveled around. There was anger in her eyes and it made me mad--that she was angry at Az for loving someone else when she had dragged him on for five centuries. “There’s no use, Elain.”

Mor disappeared and I watched as Elain contemplated entering Az’s room. After a minute she gave up and disappeared down the same passage Mor had taken.

The door was still open and I slipped in closing it behind me.

He was facing away from me as I removed the glamor. He was sitting on his bed, still in nightclothes, facing the open balcony. A half-full bottle of wine sat at his bedside and his wings drooped over the sheets.

The smell of alcohol was thick in the room as I took a single step.

“I said,” he drawled, his voice tired, “I don’t want to talk right now. Please, just-”

He froze, the shadows flying around him picking up a loud chatter. And then he slowly,  _ so _ slowly, turned his head around.

His eyes were red and tired, but they widened into giant green orbs as they ran over me. Disbelief was in those eyes, and hope. 

“Am I dead?” he whispered, turning his entire body to me. He seemed to really believe it too.

I laughed and, despite my strength, I felt a tear slip down my face. “No,” I whispered.

“Someone is messing with my mind,” he said to himself, laughing in a broken voice. “Maybe Rhysand thought it would be funny to-”

I laid my palm onto his warm cheek and he froze, his eyes widening as tears slipped out and landed in my palm, hot. “How?” he choked out, his eyes flickering with happiness and joy and fear all at once. 

Fear that this might indeed be a dream.

“My power kept me alive,” I whispered, brushing away another tear that streamed down his beautiful face. “The mating bond snapped and when I came alive, it was gone forever. I couldn’t walk for awhile and it had taken all of my power to bring me back to life, so I had no way to contact you.”

“You’re real,” he said to himself, his arms slipping around my waist as he pressed his head to my stomach, his head bowed.

I tangled my fingers in his hair. “The bond is gone,” I said. I didn’t know what I meant by it.

“I don’t care,” he said roughly, his breathing growing faster. “I swear if this is some kind of joke, if I’m dreaming…”

I pinched him and he laughed, his eyes widening as he looked up at me. “You look… you look beautiful,” he whispered.

He was still conflicted, afraid.

I lifted his chin. “I love you, Azriel. I have for a long, long time. With or without the mating bond. To the ends of this world.”

His lip quivered and he kissed my dress, right over my stomach.

“This is… impossible,” he gasped. But I could hear the reality sinking in.

“Do you want me to call Rhys over to confirm it?” I chuckled.

His eyes lit up and he looked at me this time as if he truly saw me. “Kieryn,” he whispered, his eyes glimmering in the moonlight.

I opened my mouth to make a smartass remark but he stood in one swift motion and kissed me.

He was tall--much taller than me and I reached up on my toes to meet his lips with mine. The kiss was searing and gentle, each meeting of our lips filled with passion and joy and relief. His hands roamed over me and settled when he pushed me against the wall; one of his hands tangled in my hair, lifting my lips up to meet his, and the other hovering over my hips, pinning me further into the wall.

His wings flared out and settled as my mouth slipped from his lips to his jaw, his neck, his collarbone.

I wanted him. Mate or not.

“I love you, Kieryn,” he whispered to me as my mouth hovered over his chest. I smiled against his golden skin and kissed the whorl of Illyrian tattoo as he kissed the top of my scar on my forehead. My lips moved down his chest, my fingers scrambling to unbutton his shirt.

His hands stroked me while I kissed his beautiful chest. They stroked me gently and warmly as I sank to my knees before and pulled off his pants.

His body stilled as I took his substantial length into my hand. But before I could so much as fill my mouth with him, he gripped my shoulders, his eyes alight.

“You already had your turn,” he whispered, pulling me to my feet.

I could only stare at his body--beautiful. This beautiful, powerful Illyrian male was  _ mine _ .

He seemed to be thinking the same thing as he kissed me again, pressing me into the wall. His rough hands slid up my bared thigh, and he gathered the dress and yanked it off of my body.

The lacy underwear I had on set his eyes on fire.

“Throw a shield around this room,” he said roughly. “I don’t want anyone to hear what I’m going to do to you.”

At the growl in his voice, my entire body tightened. I threw up a sound shield and he smirked as he felt it settle. The pure male arrogance in that smile made me arch my back. I needed his mouth all over me, on my breasts and in between my legs.

He could feel my tension and he smiled again with that cruel smile, his fingers slipping between my legs. His mouth found mine and I groaned against his mouth as he found my wetness. He whispered my name as he slid a finger inside of me, his finger slipping in and out and in and-

I moaned his name, my fingers digging into the muscle of his arm as he slid in another finger, filling me until I couldn’t breathe. His thumb flicked over my bundle of nerves, dragging a hoarse cry out of me.

He was… he was wicked.

A tendril of his shadow swept to my back, unhooking the ivory lace bra I was wearing.

I felt it fall away and he removed his lips from my mouth to take my breast into his mouth.

I plunged my fingers into his silken hair as his fingers sped up and his mouth licked and bit at my breasts.

I felt my climax building and when I was on the verge of losing it, he retracted his body from mine.

I stumbled and he caught me, laughing.

“Bastard,” I whispered as I caught him grinning.

He kissed me again, his smile making the joining of our lips messy.

“Get on the bed,” he growled, his voice making me flush. I didn’t want to stop kissing him, but I moved onto the bed, baring my thighs for him.

His eyes glazed with desire as he looked at the apex of my thighs, at the wetness where his fingers had been moments ago.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, taking in the proud muscle and wings. Wings I wanted to touch and lick and stroke.

He prowled towards me, kissing me as he settled on top of me. 

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you.”

I heard shouts ring out in the distance as stars began plummeting through the sky. I was so busy watching them flying in the distance that I didn’t see him sheathe himself in me until I  _ felt  _ it.

He was massive and gave me space to adjust, and I was panting by his second thrust.

He kissed my cheek, his eyes gentle as he softly murmured my name. He brushed away a tendril of my hair as he pulled out and thrust back in. I cried out, wrapping my arms around his back and arching my back instinctually.

Another glowing star flew by and he thrust into me again, his eyes bright.

I loved him. So damn much. He could have my body, my heart… all of it. I gripped his shoulders as he settled into a comfortable pace, speeding up when I begged him to, and slowing when we could hardly breathe.

Home. This was home. 

I felt the edge glimmering in my soul, and saw the same in his eyes as he fell onto his back and lifted me on top of him. I kissed him as I rode him, my lips brushing his mouth and venturing to his wings. 

My fingers brushed the sensitive spot on his wings as my mouth met his in a burning kiss.

We both obliterated.

I cried out as he slammed deep, spilling himself into me. Shooting stars flecked in my vision as he roared with his release. When it was over, he remained panting underneath me.

“I love you, Ryn,” he whispered, his lips tracing my jaw.

“I love you, Az,” I whispered back, removing myself from him.

I held him through the night, both of us too tired to do it again. We watched the stars for a long time from his bed, drinking wine and laughing.

And when sleep overtook him, his head in my lap, I kissed his soft hair and realized where I was.

Home. Here, with Az, was my home.


End file.
